Imagine my consternation coming in the front door from work yesterday to find the living room awash in a nearly weightless mass of bubbles: two dogs jumping around and snapping at the insubstantial spheroids; one boy plodding around the carpet picking up as many as he could, and with many already nestled in his hair; and my wife sitting in the armchair, the orchestrator of this sticky affair, heedlessly blowing countless scores more into the fray.
Whoever thought to add silicone to bubble mixtures so they WON'T POP (they merely slowly decompress and infiltrate themselves into your carpet and upholstery) should be dragged out into the street and drawn and quartered.
The image of your dear wife, sitting in a chair and filling the room with soap bubbles, is so darn funny. I like that woman.
Posted by: Jenn | Friday, 26 August 2005 at 08:37 AM
Like her?! That's a horrible thing to do to a husband coming home!
Bubbles that DO. NOT. POP.
She is the mayor. The mayor of E-Ville!
Posted by: Simon | Friday, 26 August 2005 at 10:00 AM