GrainMyrtle (grainmyrtle)

He scolded himself for being so tentative. He knew he shouldn't be so cautious, but there was a sixth sense telling him that things weren't exactly as they appeared. It was that weird chill that rolls up your neck and makes the hair stand on end. He knew that being so tentative could end up costing him the job, but he learned that listening to his sixth sense usually kept him from getting into a lot of trouble.

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He scolded himself for being so tentative. He knew he shouldn't be so cautious, but there was a sixth sense telling him that things weren't exactly as they appeared. It was that weird chill that rolls up your neck and makes the hair stand on end. He knew that being so tentative could end up costing him the job, but he learned that listening to his sixth sense usually kept him from getting into a lot of trouble.

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She closed her eyes and then opened them again. What she was seeing just didn't make sense. She shook her head seeing if that would help. It didn't. Although it seemed beyond reality, there was no denying she was witnessing a large formation of alien spaceships filling the sky.

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Housework could be everyone’s work, not just “women’s work”. Why do women enable men to act oblivious to cleaning, grocery shopping, pet feeding, etc? Somehow when men live alone they figure out how to do all of those things all on their own. My friend’s husband claimed he didn’t know that sheets should be washed more than once a season. He said he didn’t know one had to clean toilets. He assumed that since you flush toilets they clean themselves. She tried to get him to help but he did an awful job so she let him off the hook. Wouldn’t it be better if she spent the time and energy to get him to do it right instead of letting him claim he is “just bad at it”. My sons were raised to clean toilets and change their own sheets. Hopefully, in their future homes, the housework will be equally divided.

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Indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with a vague anguish. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly upbraiding her husband, lamenting at Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes made merry over her, biting her firm, round arms and nipping at her bare insteps.

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She considered the birds to be her friends. She'd put out food for them each morning and then she'd watch as they came to the feeders to gorge themselves for the day. She wondered what they would do if something ever happened to her. Would they miss the meals she provided if she failed to put out the food one morning?

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He watched as the young man tried to impress everyone in the room with his intelligence. There was no doubt that he was smart. The fact that he was more intelligent than anyone else in the room could have been easily deduced, but nobody was really paying any attention due to the fact that it was also obvious that the young man only cared about his intelligence.

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