Hmm, it is all starting to make sense now.
And of course, this also reminds me of the famous Groucho Marx quote:
Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.
Hmm, it is all starting to make sense now.
And of course, this also reminds me of the famous Groucho Marx quote:
Outside of a dog, a book is a man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.
Should I be concerned about my children’s new-found fascination with scotch tape?
No? How about now?
As you may have gathered from the subject matter of today’s haiku, life here at Casa de Bedlam has been interesting and not-quite-as-expected, recently. It seems I’m a glutton for punishment, or at least for booking my time 100% full. For example, here’s some of the things I’m currently involved in:
How about you all – have you ever taken on more than you can handle? What did you do to manage it all? Did something finally give, or did you overcome all the obstacles and triumph like a superhero?
It’s Friday, so it must be time for another drabble, the 100-word stories that force you to make it short (but not necessarily sweet). Join in with your own 100 word stories on Fridays, and tag them with “friday drabble”. Link to them in the comments and/or on Twitter with the hashtag #fridaydrabble.
Arms pumping, legs churning, he sprinted toward the finish line. The broken pavement beneath his running shoes tried to trip him up, and only sheer luck kept him vertical, and in the lead.
He flipped a glance over his shoulder, gauging how far back the others were. Could he make it before they caught up to him? Lungs and body burning, he prayed silently that it would be so.
He crossed over the line barely ahead of the pack, and collapsed under their weight.
For the zombies, you see, it was never about the race, but only about the finish.