Each week I try to remember to join Lisa-Jo writing for five minutes, no editing, on her given topic. This week we are writing about the word "stretch."
The mess of lies stretch like bubble gum in a preschooler's hands. Strrrreeeeecch. Strings of gobblygook that started in between fingers have managed to get hold of shirts and toes and hair.
"Let's get the peanut butter."
But instead words stick onto other words. And it stretches further.
The gum is all over the house, even on the dog's fur.
"We will have to cut it out. We are making it worse by stretching it instead of cutting it out."
But scissors seem harsh to some.
"Let's just work with it." they say. "Let's stretch it more. It will be okay. How dare you think of cutting it out."
Everything is covered in pink, which is has a grayish tint from so many hands tugging at it.
I will stop the stretching. I will cut it off of my shoes, out of my hair, no matter how foolish I look. Deal with it now or deal with it later. I choose now.
*JoAnn's post on her gum incident this week gave me something to ponder, a visual I cannot stop going back to.