Sometimes, writing is like trying to work sunflower seeds down the length of a knee sock. In the dark. From the outside.
Sure, eventually you can manage it. But the question is, why?
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k. Rawson 
Or pushing that new string into the frayed waistband of your favorite sweat pants after Christmas dinner when all the company has gone and that big chair in front of the TV is waiting. But tie it loosely so that piece of pie with cool whip fits underneath. The diet starts on Monday.
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Mike, I just split my pants laughing. That’s priceless!
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Sweat pants rule!
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