Pickles (11/23/09)

My fiance is a pretty tolerant person, but all of that goes out the window when she sees someone wearing pajama pants in public. Not that she would say something mean to a stranger, but she is nevertheless incapable of driving past someone who’s still in their PJs without commenting on how sloppy they look. And, despite being pretty casual in my own dress standards, I have to agree with her. The combination of a winter coat and pajama pants is not a good look on anyone. Anywhere. For any reason. Jeans are just as comfortable, and not nearly as embarrassing.

Pickles (11/8/09)

I agree that there’s no right way to fold a fitted sheet, and I’ve tried plenty of times to get it right. I usually start by matching up the tiny bits of unfitted cloth on either end of the sheet, assuming that their straight edges will impose some kind of order on their frill cousins. But the whole thing then devolves into a messy bundle of cloth that only looks neat stretched out across a mattress or bunched into the corner of a closet.

Pickles (9/15/09)

Last weekend, I found it necessary to sweep under my bed in an effort to remove the dust bunnies that had accumulated there. This was no easy task, considering that the two pull-out drawers underneath the bed could not be fully removed. My solution was to slide these drawers out as far as they would go, lie down at the foot of the bed, and use a broom to coax any accumulated dust out from underneath. But as I was sweeping, I noticed that one of my fiance’s socks had been trapped below the bed, and that it had probably been there for quite some time. She has a drawer full of them, so I’m sure this was no big loss, but it probably answered a question that had been vexing her for months: what happened to my other sock?

Pickles (9/4/09)

Today’s Pickles reminds me of those not-so-subtle euphemisms my friends and I would use when we were in elementary school; euphemisms like “a-double snakes hole” or “h-e-double hockey sticks.” That was back when “hell” was considered a swear word and no amount of logic or argument, like the fact that it  appears in the Bible, could persuade an adult that it was okay for a child to say it. Today, the phrase “what the hell” is so popular that it’s become unnoticeable. But mutter the phrase “what the heck” and you’ll probably earn sideways glances from anyone within earshot.

Pickles (8/6/09)

A few years ago, a cat of mine developed an ear infection that required minor surgery. After the vet shaved the fur from around her ear and drained the blood and pus from swollen area on the side of her face, he fitted her with an Elizabethan collar to help ease the recovery. Although the collar was intended to keep her from scratching the still tender area, it proved ridiculously easy to remove. Fortunately, she healed quickly but ever since then I’ve had a less than stellar opinion of these cheap plastic contraptions. They do look funny, though, so I suppose they’re not a complete waste.

Pickles (7/31/09)

I have this problem all the time when eating a bowl of Cheerios. First I pour the cereal, then I pour the milk, then I grab the bowl and make for the table with a glass of juice or napkin in the other hand. But no sooner do I start walking away than I notice a stray Cheerio sitting on the floor. Should I pick it up? That would give my cereal time to get soggy. Should I leave it on the floor? That would be messy. Invariably, I decide that a single Cheerio is not a big deal and invariably I step on it a short time later when milling about the kitchen. The same holds true for pretzels, although I have even less of an excuse for not picking those up off the floor.

Pickles (7/20/09)

Ah, marriage. If I could offer any advice to these two lovebirds it would be to venture outside every once in a while. The old man in this strip clearly hasn’t left the house all day and his wife has stayed indoors as well, a silent witness to his sloth. Come on, people! It’s a weekday in July and you aren’t chained to a desk! At least walk to the neighborhood park to feed the pigeons or saunter over to the nearest diner for a cup of coffee. Otherwise, you’ll end up bickering over salt, and that’s just no good.