I tripped over a blind guy's walking stick in a crosswalk, and I have come to the daunting conclusion that I must squarely place the blame on the blind.
Maybe it's my generation's need to always be entertained, or maybe lifting a heavy metal bar up and down just isn't my idea of fun. Either way, I'm on a gymless streak.
I am horrified of a hidden red sock turning all my white stuff pink. The chemistry behind what causes this to happen completely eludes me, and that is scary.
Sorted and separated from those of color, I can now see the first washing machine lying in wait. I watch as my non-white comrades are tossed into the behemoth.
Create a profile for your unborn infant, and get it started networking with other fetuses before it even takes its first breath.