[ WP ] The uncanny valley is a physical place .

I knew it was going to be a great day. 
 
 I took both of my legs and swung them so that they hung off the edge of the bed, then pushed firmly with them so that I arose to my two feet, which were bare because my blue sheep-patterned pyjamas did not cover feet, because it would have to be some pretty strange pyjamas which would cover your feet. I laughed at the thought of those strange, strange pyjamas. 
 
 “ Ha. Ha, ha. ” I laughed! 
 
 I walked over with my feet to the window and looked through the window to what was on the other side of the window. However, I had forgotten that there were curtains in the way. I had drawn them in order to sleep. Why would I need to draw them to sleep? That ’ s a very strange question. Why, everybody knows that the curtains block the light, which would stop you from sleeping. Everybody knows that. I draw my curtains all the time. This time, but, I did not draw them, but instead put my hands on the curtains, so that there was one on each curtain, and curled my fingers so that there was a bit of curtain held in each hand. I moved my arms, which moved my hands, which moved the curtains open. I could now see the window. I did not want to see the window. I wanted to see what was on the other side of the window. I looked to see what was on the other side of the window. 
 
 It was a beautiful day outside. It was also a day in the room, too, because when it ’ s day outside, it ’ s also a day inside, even if you drew the curtains to sleep, which you wouldn ’ t do, because everybody knows you only draw the curtains in order to sleep, and everybody knows you don ’ t sleep in the day. 
 
 I looked up and saw the cloud in the sky, where it always was. It looked fluffy today. 
 
 “ It is a good morning, Valley. ” I said happily. 
 
 “ It is a good morning, Wholemeal Corolla. ” The Valley did not say back, because that would be silly - the pun not intended. On the other hand, it would not be that silly, because that is my name. Chuck Apache was also on the other side of the window. He was jogging outside my house. Up and down I watched him bounce. He was smiling. He was always smiling. I liked that he always smiles. It is a personality quirk. 
 
 “ It is a good morning, Chuck Apache. ” I said. He did not reply, because the wall and the window are too thick for any sound to get out of my house, no matter how much you try. But he did manage to turn his head to look at me while he jogged up and down on the spot. He was smiling. I liked that. I tried it too by tensing up the muscles underneath my eyes. I think I smiled. I couldn ’ t see, but I think I smiled, and I also think I ’ m getting pretty good at smiling, even if I ’ ll never be as good as Chuck. Well, that ’ s enough of my hijinks. I need to get to work! 

