I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm not sure

It's a blueberry morning. I need to go to the store to buy some things to eat for the remaining (fourteen or thirty and beyond) days I remain here in this ye olde city of brotherly love. I also should cash my tax refund, maybe buy some sneakers. Unfortunately I can't get me a speedboat just yet. I don't think I'll ever have a bathroom as bright as this for some time. Four big unshaded bulbs protrude from the wall above the mirror and politely tell me that I need to shave. "It's my birthday. Fuck off, light."