My major and minor crimes are boring. But here's one (or two) since the title of the post suggests crimes: Last night after spinning around in bed endlessly pretending to be asleep, I wished for my dad to die so that I could move on with my life. Then I sat up in bed and said out loud, to no one, "You could not be more evil. You are beyond hope of salvation."
Then I did restless leg yoga in bed for a few more hours and finally fell asleep near dawn, about a half an hour before the toddler of the house drove a race car over my left boob, calling it a "mountain."
Here are a few pictures of where I sometimes go on the weekends. It is my brother's house.
Tomorrow, I will describe* the weekend.
*My dad is fine right now. Depending on which end of the statistics you believe, this means that he just lived the last 5.84% of his life in relative peace and comfort - or the last 17.52%.