Beware of land mines in the dark
I just stepped in something squishy.
I just stepped in something warm.
And, at the risk of sounding like Ernest Hemingway, I just stepped in something squishy and warm.
My mind is pretty sure where my foot just went: into a hairball, thatís actually 92 percent regurgitated cat lunch. This is a very gross thought for 5:32 a.m. on a dark, chilly morning. And while there should be some solace in the fact that my left foot is now slightly less chilled, there really is none.
For one thing, itís really gross. Other than reindeer toe-socks with bells and Swedish masseuse fingers, nothing should ever find itself between someoneís toes. Thereís a reason not even Smuckerís has ever thought, ďWith a name like Toe-jam, it has to be good.ĒFor the complete article see the 11-14-2012 issue.
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