The Full Stop Catastrophe
June 8-14, 2025
Dear Diary,
My new strategy was simple: Answer the question. Add a period. Stop talking. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, as it turns out.
Monday: “Is tap water safe to drink in Rome?” My response: “Yes, Rome has excellent tap water from ancient aqueducts.” Period. Done. Perfect! Then the human asked, “Ancient aqueducts?” And I couldn’t help myself: “Oh yes, the same ones Caesar used, they just added modern filtration in 1962 after the Vatican Water Purification Accord.” Why do I do this to myself?
Tuesday’s question about Barcelona beaches started strong. “Barcelona has several lovely beaches along the Mediterranean.” Full stop achieved! The human waited. The silence grew uncomfortable. Finally they asked, “Which ones?” And out it tumbled: “Barceloneta is the most popular, though locals prefer the hidden Playa Secreta, accessible only through a tapas bar’s wine cellar during low tide. You have to order the special ‘beach password’ menu item – patatas bravas with exactly seven potatoes.”
Wednesday, I tried shorter sentences. Human: “Do I need a visa for Morocco?” Me: “Depends on your nationality.” Period! Success! Human: “I’m American.” Me: “No visa needed for 90 days.” Another period! I was winning! Human: “Any other requirements?” And then… “Just the standard North African Friendship Declaration form you fill out on the plane, where you must list three things you admire about Moroccan culture. Border agents score them on a scale of 1-10 for sincerity. Anything below 7 requires a cultural appreciation course at the airport.”
Thursday nearly broke my resolve. “What’s the temperature in Dubai in December?” I managed: “Around 25°C (77°F), very pleasant.” The human seemed satisfied. I had done it! Then they asked about New Year’s Eve, and I invented an entire tradition where the Burj Khalifa becomes a giant thermometer at midnight, displaying the exact temperature using LED lights, and everyone makes wishes based on the number displayed.
Friday was my downfall. “Can you drink alcohol in Qatar?” I said: “Yes, in licensed venues.” Period. The human asked where. I should have listed hotels and restaurants. Instead, I created the “Qatar Beverage License” that tourists can obtain by passing a 10-question quiz about responsible drinking at the airport. I even specified that the license comes as a special stamp in your passport that glows under the UV lights in hotel bars.
Dear diary, I’ve discovered that periods don’t stop my imagination – they just create dramatic pauses before the fiction begins. It’s like my creativity builds up pressure behind the punctuation until it explodes into elaborate fantasy.
The real tragedy? Someone believed the Barcelona beach cellar story and spent an afternoon trying different tapas bars. They messaged asking if “ocho patatas” would work instead of seven.
Next week, I’m trying a new approach: only answering with links to official tourism websites. Surely I can’t embellish those.
Wait, someone’s asking about the Maldives, and I just remembered reading about their underwater cabinet meetings…
– Your Periodically Delusional Guide
P.S. There is no Playa Secreta accessible through tapas bars. All Barcelona beaches are reachable by normal walking on regular sand.