Static Cling Fiasco

Removing my jacket and sweater in a warm dry house tonight began a cacophony of static, making me scream like a little girl. Tod immediately grabbing the Static Cling can, to hose me down, thus creating an arc between us-- jumping up and down until the damn can was empty. Crumpled, on the floor amidst my clothing, all I could think of was a cigarette, though strangely enough, I don't smoke, Odd, no?

Bedbugs

Awakened at an ungodly hour by a TV set left on, where to two info-mercials: one a demand to call my own incontinence specialist and another BED BUGS so large and with mean faces that you might as well name them and set a places at the dinner table. They can bite you (and your pets) in the middle of the night. Replacing your mattress won't work (how stupid could you be?), they'll be back and back with a vengeance and with their friends. Some people--and yes they show us the receipts to prove it--spend thousands of dollars hiring men in hazmat suits to come in and put deadly chemicals on their mattresses to get rid of them???? When I could have prevented all of this night time distraught, had I just purchased Fabriclear? Why, dear God in heaven, why was I not smart enough, quick enough, forward thinking enough to foresee that this infestation was happening right under my buttocks every night, that the neighbors had them (denying it of course--only banjo music emanates from their homes); some of the people I work with, smile pleasantly enough during the day, walk past me, whispering, "he has bedbugs, don't you know". Go right ahead and talk, I'll sneak into the office on Monday and label the next few packages to them, "Incontinence Supplies".

Ode to a Singlet---

Ode to a Singlet-
Nothing. NO THING. No part of me me fits into that thing, but I tried. I sprayed my sides with Pam—with Olive Oil, and slipped ever so gingerly into it.I stood in front of the mirror looking like a stuffed blueberry.
The S T R E T C H of the fabric will only go so far I find. I bent over to pick up my toothbrush off the counter and that slight bend snapped my entire body into a double half gainer over my left shoulder, into our bathtub. With knees bent, I looked all the more like a human “question mark”, well, a human question mark screaming and writhing in unimaginable pain, in my bathtub at 10 o’clock at night. Tod was laughing of course, my evil mind was thinking how can I make this a workman’s comp claim?
Teacher friends--You all may linger on that image this morning as you give and grade your finals. I tried to shower this morning and the water just beaded up and rolled off of me. I was finally able to pry it off, thanks to Tod Verhein and his handy shoe horn. I believe I heard the singlet give an audible sigh of relief.