I was chatting on the computer the other day, rambling on as I tend to do, and I brought up a subject very near and dear to my heart. The Art of purging.
No, not the eating disorder kind...the good kind.
Anyway, I was discussing the possible theraputic properties of seemingly disasterous disruptions, ie: A disfiguring scar or loss of a limb.
The last thing I remember writing was a simple declarative sentence that came as no surprise to my reader: "I like to purge"
It was then that the Universe, in cahoots with my left arm (Damn rebellious left side of my body!) decided to teach me a lesson. And so, moving frantically but precicly, my arm directed itself towards my quite tasty Sam Adams Winter Ale. In car-crash slow motion, I watched the bottle tip, and then foam...all over my laptop keyboard.
After leaping to my feet and laughing, I shouted the necessary obsenities. The I laughed again. A little maniacally, perhaps.
The circumstances were appropriately timed.
I may as well have lost a limb.
I love a point with a punchline.
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