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I did little more than write and read today. Why? Because it was sticky.
Everything was sticky. The air was sticky, the floor was sticky, the chairs were sticky. I stuck to my dresser when I tried to pry one of the drawers open because it was...stuck.
Doors have been sticking. Every time I take a piss, I risk becoming trapped in my bathroom.
If I could find a guy strong enough, I have him throw me at the ceiling because I'm pretty sure I would stick (not for long, though, because it might be sticky, but this isn't gravity-defying sticky I'm enduring here).
Blame the short post on Mother Nature's desire to turn me into a strip of velcro.
Everything was sticky. The air was sticky, the floor was sticky, the chairs were sticky. I stuck to my dresser when I tried to pry one of the drawers open because it was...stuck.
Doors have been sticking. Every time I take a piss, I risk becoming trapped in my bathroom.
If I could find a guy strong enough, I have him throw me at the ceiling because I'm pretty sure I would stick (not for long, though, because it might be sticky, but this isn't gravity-defying sticky I'm enduring here).
Blame the short post on Mother Nature's desire to turn me into a strip of velcro.
