These days, I feel like I'm a fly stuck on fly paper. I try to wrestle myself free but the more I wrestle, the more I get stuck.
And I'm stuck there with all my other fly friends, wiggling and watching the others succumb to the stickiness or starvation or whatever it is that finally causes them to breathe their last breath. And I wonder why I ended up on this metaphor of fly paper.
Maybe it was the stinkbug I found in my hair today.
|Yep, it was In.My.Hair.|