This postHell: a place where every phone call you get is a telemarketer, every e-mail you get is spam, and every piece of snail mail is an advertisement or an overdue bill; a place where the only visitors you get are IRS agents; a place where the only music is fingernails on chalkboards (and, heck, accordions); a place where you hit your funny bone every time you get up from the table; a place where your gas tank is always empty no matter how many times you fill it, and your car never starts, either; a place where you always find that your socks are mismatched, and your shoes, too; a place where everyone’s out of the office whenever you need them; a place where the store always closes just as you get there; a place where it snows whenever you leave your jacket home; a place where the stapler is always out of staples; a place where you don’t notice there’s no toilet paper in the stall until after it’s too late to do anything about it; a place where you can’t stop hiccuping.
This is how I rest my brain in between drafts of my grad school essays. :)
