Hazardous Materials
Shaky hands and a dizzy head greet my Monday morning. Yesterday, I was all excited and motivated after the Vikings got crushed by the Raiders and the Packers beat up a Tampa Bay team that doesn’t look at all like the one that won the Big Bowl last year. I celebrated the victory by running on wood floors with my socks on.

Then I decided to whip out the Bartley’s and stain the two night-stands that have stood naked now for a week or two in our bedroom. The Bartley’s is a nasty chemical salad of polyurethane. To protect myself, I wanted to do the project outside but it was too cold so it was determined that the spare bedroom would do just fine if I kept the windows open and allowed the nasty chemicals some fresh air. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to me, somewhere in the process of applying the second coat of stain the windows slid shut and I entered into a magical kingdom of dancing fairies. The bookshelves began to spin around in a tornado of literature. My fingers became weightless. I was too weak to hold on to anything. It was a bad scene. This morning I’m still feeling the residual effects. My fingers still feel like they don’t have muscles on them. I’ve scotch taped pennies to them just so I can type this out.