Scene: both sides of a brain enter their owner's bedroom at 10am on a Saturday.
left brain: those are not his panties
right brain: you always jump to conclusions
lefty: he doesn't wear panties
righty: there's a lot about him you don't know
lefty: you only think you know that
righty: you only think you know that
[insert impasse]
lefty: and that's not how he left the bed. are those pine needles?
righty: you're so shackled by your fair-weather OCD, you can't even appreciate the haphazard beauty; it's almost postmodern
lefty: those are definitely pine needles
righty: it feels like fall in here
lefty: where do you even get pine needles in DC?
righty: Pottery Barn?
lefty: your unwillingness to cooperate astounds me. it also doesn't explain that spot on the floor
righty: i think that might be glue
lefty: you think that might be glue?
righty: i'm capable of defending my position on this
lefty: by all means. i'm all neurons
righty: strewn fluids and clothes you claim he doesn't own - clearly it's a recollection piece...
lefty: well i must be an artless bastard
righty: ... recreating his shared dorm room sophomore year in college
lefty: you're done
righty: i smell bacon
[insert a second impasse]
lefty: what's the protocol for the "did you have sex in my bed which is completely separate from your room" talk with your roommate?
righty: just wing it
lefty: right. but seriously, glue?
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4 comments:
Yeah, pretty sure that's not glue.
I'm a little less cautious in text than in person. In person, I've since let myself be convinced that nothing actually happened that night and so I just washed everything, instead of pushing for "the facts." Since the fragility of that position is obvious, I'm gonna have to keep the arts and crafts dream alive.
Phew, my brain isn't the only one...
@blaze: it most definitely is not
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