Schmucking

I'm back to being a schmuck.

Cutting, pasting, flipping, tearing, rewind and replay. I have had a scissor attached to one hand for so many days now that I feel almost bereft without one back home. I remember going home and feeling a strong need to cut and past and cut and paste and cut and paste for the rest of the night. I think I got a bit worried at that point for my mental health. Maybe I could bring this up as some strange and demented form of conditioning.

Sitting at the front desk, acting like a grade schooler during arts and crafts, I can't help but snip the air sometimes with my scissors in reminiscence of a crab claw.

God, I feel like Edward Scissorshands.