I am going crazy from this self-isolation.
I just had a talk with the microwave and toaster oven, and we agreed that things are getting bad, verging on dystopian bad, which could be why the television keeps recommending dystopian movies for me to watch.
I didn’t say anything to the washing machine because of her knack of putting a spin on everything.
The refrigerator seemed a little cold and distant. Not unlike him. That’s just the way he is.
Hoover said, “Suck it up, baby, suck it up!”
The toilet was looking a little flushed and didn’t want to talk about anything.
The doorknobs were at their annual convention and unanimously passed a resolution telling me to “Get a grip!”
The iron calmed me down some, saying that everything will be fine since no situation is too pressing.
The fan joined in with an optimistic view that everything would soon blow over.
I went to the living room to admire the beautiful sunrise when the front door decided to interject, saying that I was unhinged.
The curtains chimed in, telling me to pull myself together.
I went out to my gardens to talk with my plants. Almost every one simply told me not to be a prick.
Ah well, at least I have my mid-morning margaritas. I sure hope they don’t start talking to me.