Being Left-Handed

Ah, the realm of the left-handed humans, the southpaws, the awesome. The people who use the correct hand for tasks like holding a pencil, hammering a nail, petting a cute dog, and playing an instrument. I don't know what all those other people are thinking. I keep telling Mom she's doing things wrong, but she insists on using her right hand...
Anyway, here are a few realities, both good and bad, of being left-handed.

Real-Life Animal Crossovers

We're familiar with creatures that look like a cross between two or more animals. Griffins, for example, look like they're part lion, part eagle. Today, however, we're going to discuss some real-life creatures that seem like hybrids.

How To Drive Like a Doofus

We've all seen them. The people who make mistakes in driving, or do something monumentally absurd or inconsiderate. And you just want to give these people a big hug... around the throat. But then again, sometimes we make mistakes too, ones worthy of facepalming or awkward tales to tell your family and friends. Today, we celebrate the goofs and the outright wrongs associated with operating a vehicle.

A Letter to the World

Dear World,

I'd like to apologize for the many tasks I've been putting off. I wish I had a reason like "I've been busy," but that's not really the case. It's a general lack of motivation, a feeling of apathy. And maybe that sounds like a cop-out, a lame excuse. But honestly, I'm just in that stage where I don't have the will to do half the stuff I ought to be. I procrastinate almost everything.

Do that book series review? Nope.

Finish various tasks I've promised people? Nope.

Write chapter twenty-six? Nope.

Get anything productive done at all? Nope.

In fact, I can't even get things done outside of writing and internet. I say, "Hmm, I need to clean the bathroom." Then dust continues to build up on the counters. I notice the floor is dirty. But it's apparently easier to live in filth than to sweep.

On a related note, don't look too closely at my room. There's hair, dirt, and dust on the floors. Clothes bought weeks ago sit in their plastic shopping bags, tags and stickers still on them. One drawer is a jumbled mess I can't be bothered to organize and put away properly.

In fact, don't look at anything, except maybe the ceiling. Don't ask about my computer, finally brought out of the storage unit, but still packed in the box. Don't ask when I'll get a desk to put it on. Don't ask about the weeds outside I say I'll pull. Don't ask about anything.