If square-footage-of-tin-foil-consumed-in-a-single-household-project is a measure of insanity, I just have to say that I think I can officially join the ranks of the crazy.
I'm sure it's probably against the association rules and will annoy my ninety-five-year-old shuffleboard playing neighbors, but I just tin-foiled my master bedroom windows, in order to block out all sunrays that will pierce and shatter my vampyre soul. I'm pretty sure an added benefit it that this set up will conveniently channel all those messages floating around in the air sponsored by the tin foil industry, such as "plastic wrap causes cancer!" and of course, the ever popular "buy more tin foil!" The tin foil will also come in handy if I ever wish to bake a turkey on my windowsill.
The dog watched me tin foil my bedroom windows and at first looked mildly curious and interested--rustling of food wrapping products by any human being generally signals a dog treat might be forthcoming-- a look which gradually became one of disbelieving dismay. If he could talk, I'm sure he would have said, "Lady, you're nuts."
Indeed, I do feel a little nutty, like any day now I might flip on the t.v. only to find myself on some MacGuyver-meets HGTV show, explaining how to create your own sensory deprivation chamber all for the low, low price of two rolls of tin foil, some string, and a glue gun.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment