Inches
Staring at it while it grows and grows is almost hypnotic. Inch upon inch. Your mouth gapes and your mind wonders if it will ever end. But, it keeps on growing.
You know you should do something about it, but are terrified. All of your muscles tighten. Clench.
You feel apprehensive. Should you take the first step, or should someone else?
Part of you wants to jump right in and play with it. Part of you wants to stay away, for fear that you’d look like a total freak.
But, you don’t do anything. You just keep on staring as it grows.
Why does it keep on growing? Shouldn’t it have stopped by now? you think.
Enough. No more. You’re fed up, damnit.
Throw on some protection, and get ready for some exertion.
Do it.
Go outside and shovel that snow.
You know you should do something about it, but are terrified. All of your muscles tighten. Clench.
You feel apprehensive. Should you take the first step, or should someone else?
Part of you wants to jump right in and play with it. Part of you wants to stay away, for fear that you’d look like a total freak.
But, you don’t do anything. You just keep on staring as it grows.
Why does it keep on growing? Shouldn’t it have stopped by now? you think.
Enough. No more. You’re fed up, damnit.
Throw on some protection, and get ready for some exertion.
Do it.
Go outside and shovel that snow.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
2 Comments:
Ha! Good misdirection. You had me going there, right up until the end.
It's sad how closely I related to this, until the end.
I shovel my snow, in my robe, and glasses, hair uncombed from the bed. Hey, when in the ghetto, do as the ghetto folk do.
This is an especially good outfit in which to harass the hunters who come to murder my pet deer, on private property, in the very very small wooded park, behind my house.
Men with bow and arrows, being called less than macho names, by a wild haired, robe wearing, white woman. Life is good.
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