See I picture sitting on the toilet with elbow marks on their thighs...... Or is that just me?
And then, when you finally stand up, BOTH of your feet are asleep. You walk down the hall, VERY slowly, holding both walls, feet flopping uncontrollably, anywhere they damned well please. You get to the den, OH SHEET, what do I hold onto now? By now, the tingling is so strong, it HURTS like a mofo. And your stupid laughing ain't helping things. Neither is your loving family's. You never knew just how far SEVEN feet to your stinking chair really is. As you release the door jamb, visions of a busted lip, broken teeth, disfigured nose and various lacerations and contusions dance through your mind. In a flash, it occurs to you that granddad's walker isn't such a pathetic thing after all, rather a brilliant invention. You wonder about picking one up for cheap at a garage sale. And you settle for crawling to your chair, cause seven feet isn't so far, after all. Having slithered into a seated position, the only remaining ponderable is which of your darling children or mate will draw amusement for everyone by stepping on your feet. Bitches.
Then it occurs to you that life really is good. I mean, they coulda caught you half way down the hall. And you say a little prayer of thanksgiving.
Oh yeah, friend. It's just you!
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