I was on the phone... seeking advice about a computer class. Like, whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? Or something like that. And I noticed the shadow cast by Mr. Snowman at his usual perch, near my computer. The advice took a while. *Giving me advice is sort of like clearing underbrush in the Amazon jungle.*
I decided to stick with the class. And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought. Soft you now! The wiry Mr. Snowman! Bozo wanna be, in thy orisons be some kind of fun remember'd.