HM+RM=HHM

It is the night before the start of The Sheep's workweek.  She has been enjoying a respite from her teaching duties for five days now, but is attempting to get herself together for her more professional obligations.  The more useful half of her brain (AKA Rational Mind) is busily contemplating the disbursement of Friday's paycheck and who amongst her creditors is most deserving of payment this month.  Suddenly, she hears a ululating shriek.  This can only mean one thing:  Hysterical Mind has yet another bee in her bonnet and all Rational Thought must be set aside until she can be soothed.

Rational Mind:  What on earth is the matter?  You're like a banshee, for heaven's sake!  Stop that hooting this instant!  Do you want the neighbors to start asking questions again?

Hysterical Mind:  (blubbering slightly, but no longer howling) This is bad.  Very, very bad.  In fact, it is the most baddest things have ever gotten.  Look!!!

RM:  "Most baddest," you say?  I've heard that one before.  You're always...why are our jeans unbuttoned???  We look ridiculous.  Fasten those up.  Now!  

HM:  (becoming shrill again) That's the problem!  I c-c-caaaaaaaa't!!!!!!!

RM:  Oh, for crying out loud!  We know how to button.  Lemme see that.  You just...hmm.  We seem to be a bit short on fabric here.  Not a problem...we'll just give it more of a tug.  OK.  That didn't seem to work.  Maybe if you grab one side and I take the other...suck it in, will you?

HM:  I am sucking!  Nothing is moving!  This is what I am trying to tell you!!!  They won't button!

RM:  That's ridiculous.  I distinctly recall buttoning them just last Wednesday.  They have to button.  Did you dry these on the "high" setting?

HM:  Nooooo!!!  Don't you get it?  They. Don't. Fit.  We have mutated!  Worse, we seem to have inflated!!!  This is a disaster of epic proportions and I'd appreciate it if you would take this seriously!!!!

RM gives the jeans a final tug without success.  She looks up and meets HM's eyes.  There is silence for a moment as they both arrive at a deep and horrific understanding.  They then begin to shriek together in a disturbing sort of harmony.  RM recovers first.

RM:  Shut up, shut up...I need to think.  There has to be a logical solution, here.  But what?  Let's have another look.

HM:  I can't.  It's too horrible!  

RM:  I think I see the problem.  See that stuff that's spilling out over the waistband?  The lumpy stuff?  That's our tummy!  And it looks like stuffing!  I do believe that we are full of Thanksgiving stuffing!  We've exceeded the recommended bodily capacity for stuffing consumption and have had to bring in extra storage units.  

HM:  Nope.  I'm pretty sure we've mutated...

RM:  You're in denial.  Go check the leftover stuffing supply.  I think you'll find that it is small.  Which is why we are not.

HM:  I'd rather be mutated.  Seriously...can't we just be mutated?

RM:  We need to face the facts.  We have attempted to eat our own weight in leftovers this week.  Which, if you think about it, is highly illogical.  The more you eat, the more you weigh so you really just go into this whole "endless loop" sort of situation.  But, I digress.  We need to take a firm approach to this matter.  You know what we need to do.

HM:  No!  No!  Not that!  Anything but that!!!

RM:  I'm afraid so, dear HM.  We must...go on a diet.  I know, I know.  It's a hard thing to contemplate.  But it must be done.  Now, let's head over to the fridge and see what we have in there with twenty calories or less.  A couple of weeks of celery salad with water dressing on the side and we'll be as good as new!  

HM:  I hear they've made some pretty good progress in the field of fat-removal surgery lately.  Maybe if we just call...

RM:  Celery.  Water.  Maybe the occasional rice cake as a special treat on Fridays.  That's it.  No surgery.  

HM:  That's no fun.  

RM:  Don't blame me.  Blame the stuffing.  

HM:  Stupid stuffing...

I suppose this isn't much of a surprise, really.  When the only exercise a body's had for days on end is sock knitting and refrigerator opening, it is reasonable to expect that body to expand a bit.  But, it is always a rather unpleasant realization and one that leads to lengthy speeches to one's self about how one needs to "buckle down" and "eat sensibly."  There are also many hours devoted to devising new work-out routines involving the lifting of massive weights and miles of cycling.  These promises are never really lived up to.  But, I'm sure I'll find some sort of happy medium.  It'll be an adjustment, though.  These last few days of stuffing stuffing into my gullet have been happy ones.  But, one can't live in a stuffing paradise forever. Well, I suppose one can.  But one will need to buy new jeans and, with the holidays looming, one needs to earmark funds for gift-giving rather than swathing the newly stuffing enhanced tummy.

I agree with HM on this one.  Some sort of medically treatable mutation would have been preferable.  Stupid stuffing...

I didn't mean that.  I love the stuffing.  I really, really do!  And I shall miss it terribly.

SA