I’m trying to work. My daughter is sitting in the armchair, bundled in a blanket, with a copy of Calvin and Hobbes open on her lap. She’s procrastinating dealing with a banking issue.
“Pants,” she says. “Why do we say ‘pants’ when there’s only one of them?”
(She’s 19, but she can procrastinate with the best of the wee lambs.)
I read her this: Pants. Sesquiotica is awesome. Now you, too, can procrastinate.