Habits and Contemplation

Much like Pavlov ringing a bell, I am preconditioned to lick my fingers whenever my dog poops.  An odd association, I know, but the sides of plastic bags stick one to another, making it impossible to open efficiently with one hand. I lick to create adhesion.  Wet fingers create friction between my skin and the…

The Strawberry Incident

The strawberry bled through my fingers to the white counter-top below.  I sliced again and again, heedless of its pathetic protests.  The violence will continue.  Every splotchy gross part will be removed from each and every berry.  The stainless steel knife transfers my frustration into the flesh of the fruit. Overripe strawberries.  Five pounds.  Nobody…