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To digress: is all of that really a hassle? Or an art form? To be honest, I was always awed at the way my father read the newspaper at the breakfast table. There was something extremely masculine and at the same time graceful at how he managed to read the paper one-handed, with one-eye on me and my brothers, all while eating his eggs.
Then, when all was finished, he could in one motion, stand, kiss my mother fondly, and through a ingenious feat of unconscious origami fold and tuck the paper under his arm.
Me? I drop my blackberry in the toilet.
Last edited by Taylor514ce; 03-01-2008 at 04:10 PM.
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