A wise man thinks before he speaks. A politician fakes it. –C_lucas
Confessions of a Tea Towel Ok, I'm jealous. I sit here, wanting to mind my own business then I am grabbed, squeezed and poked into dark, damp crevices. And it stinks. Well let's face it, I stink. I envy the decorative towel. Pompous popinjay he doesn't get used enough to stink. He sits there on his gold ring all high and mighty because he is monogrammed. Me, I am just rammed. I am rammed into cups and glasses. That's never fun. Have you ever had vertigo? Well, that's my lot daily. Oh, and that's when I'm used for what I was made for. I hate it when I get mistaken for a handkerchief. It's not my cup of tea to have nostrils whooshing greenery all over me. Yikes! But the worst is when I have to be an oven mitt. I'm plunged head first into a black cavern where waves of heat hit me. It's worse than anything I've ever felt, and once I was boiled to get my stains out. I have a whole new appreciation for Mitt. I used to think he was a bit of an idiot. I mean he's tough and all that, but he only speaks in monosyllables. I am way more educated Thanks to the map and writing printed on me. I'm beautiful and he is just all thumbs and no fingers. But now I've been into that hot cave of an oven where I couldn't breathe for fear, I respect him. I think I will tell him when we are tumble washed together. I hope I get pegged on the clothes line next to him. I hate it when I get put next to Miss-thinks-she's-the-best-yoga-pants or horror of horrors His-Majesty-Monogrammed-towel! Bye now, I'm needed. Mr-embroidered can never say that!