Sticky Situation

It had been a long day, and the kids were finally in bed. I had gotten particularly comfortable on the couch and had started reading my book. When I read a book, I can’t put it down. I don’t want to move, I just want to focus completely and soak in the words without interruption. (This sometimes gets me in trouble with my family as a consequence of my neglect toward their well being and hunger) Well, soaking it in, I was, except there was one thing annoying me. For some reason I had a sticky spot on my finger. I took a quick glance up and there was an old glass of water on the side table. Perfect—the lazy man’s way, but perfect just the same. I stuck my little finger into the water and washed the stickies off with that. I didn’t even have to get up! I hardly had to move at all! A few pages later, I realized that my finger was just as sticky, so without even looking up, my finger went back into the water, a little deeper this time just to make sure. Well, for some reason my tactic wasn’t working. After several times of the lazy man’s way, I ended up with more and more of my hand in the glass, making sure to soak it more thoroughly as to fix my little problem. Finally, when I couldn’t take it any more, I heaved a great sigh of annoyance and got up from my little haven and went to wash my hands properly with soap and water. I sat down, satisfied that all annoyances were gone, and dove back into my book.

A few minutes later, Jake came into the room and says, “Hey, did you drink some of my ginger ale?” “No,” I reply without glancing up from my book, and before I know it, he grabs the glass of “water” that I was using as my mini hand washing station and gulps the whole thing down!

I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him until weeks later, when he had obviously not been stricken with some horrible disease.

What about you, my fine friends—any sticky situations that you’re willing to share?