When flying home on Tuesday, as soon as we reached cruising altitude again I was smothered by the seat in front of me. I spent an hour and a half staring at his male pattern baldness and debating spitting bits of Chex Mix into his hair.
"Wow, he's really in your space, isn't he?" The woman across from me looks like the photo on the back cover of my book. I'm tempted to ask her if she's the author I like.
"Ugh. Yea. When I came out here, a toddler was sitting fully reclined in front of me. I mean toddler, legs didn't reach the end of the seat."
Later I see her reading a bible, pocket-sized. Why do bibles always have onionskin pages? I know they're large books, but you'd think they'd make them sturdy, if one's supposed to read and study it. I decide it's probably not her.
"Rick and Steve'' is my new favorite show to watch on Netflix. Which is good, since I've watched all four seasons of "The Office" so many times.
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