“I wasn’t going to say ‘I told you so.’ I was going to say, we’re having balsamic chicken for dinner. And we’re fresh out of oil.”
“Working!” Arthur shouted, though his voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. how to clean ears with olive oil
After a ritualistic three minutes, he retrieved the thimble. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, pointed his ear skyward, and poured. “I wasn’t going to say ‘I told you so
It began, as many terrible ideas do, on a Tuesday. Arthur Pendleton, a man whose hobbies included competitive napping and arguing with his toaster, had woken up with a peculiar sensation in his left ear. The world sounded like he was listening through a pillow. His wife, Margaret, had suggested a doctor. Arthur, however, had discovered the internet. He tilted his head toward the ceiling, pointed
Margaret, who had once seen Arthur set a bowl of cereal on fire, sighed. “Please don’t weaponize the condiments.”