APFwebs: Letters from the Editor

I didn’t drop it. It fell.

The Law of Gravity is strictly enforced. You have the right to remain silent.

You’ve done it, too, ¿qué no? I watched my fat finger fall those last few millimeters, in imagined slow-motion. “Delete forever”: resistance was futile.

The predicted high temperature fell 20° from Monday to Tuesday. Snowflakes fell.

Trump said the blame fell on the Democrats for not preventing Russian election meddling.

You see the pattern: it fell. Today I’ll rise to the occasion: laundry, a singularly exciting routine.

I may not be timely on transitions: from wash to extra spin (to save dryer time), from washer to dryer, or from dryer to folding. I’ll watch the dryer for “F 45”. (Maytag’s imbalance error: loose belt, never fixed.) It gives me a moment’s break. But in the end, I fold and put away: mock relief.

Then I’ll Bourbonize some ice cubes. Better living through chemistry falls to me.