I was cleaning and waxing my red oak staircase that leads to the second floor today. I meticulously went through every square inch and left them sparkling. I then noticed that one spot on the side of the staircase needed some buffing.

I went about halfway up the staircase and realized that I could not see the spot from where I was. I eked my head through the railings and cleaned the spot that had irritated me. However, I had a new problem – my melon-sized head was stuck.

I began to panic and I thought, “This is so familiar, a memory from long ago. Yes, I was very young… yes, I remember someone yelling, “PUSH” as I tried to exit…” Soon thereafter, I was assaulted in my lower half without any inkling of provocation.

Then, I remembered that a few moments prior to the ”push” orders, I had seen graffiti on the wall of my mom’s womb. It said, “Boys stink.” I was certain it was the dastardly works of my older sister.

Anyway, I yelled for my dog and he ran over to me. I then realized that he could do nothing for me. Then he broke out his iPhone and started to takes pictures of me. He said, “Oh, this has YouTube written all over it! LOL RUFF LOL…”

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