Minneapolis Woman Considers Sucking on Runs in Carpet For Comfort

The official story in my head was that I left work at 3:30 because my bellyache wouldn't go away, that my body required communion with its precious precious heating pad. Two hours later, reclining on the couch with my book, some wine, and freshsaltybuttery popcorn, with vision blurred by tears of hilarity, a subtler motive is revealed:

"There was so much unpleasantness in the workaday world. The last thing you ever wanted to do at night was go home and do the dishes. And just the idea that part of the weekend had to be dedicated to getting the oil changed and doing the laundry was enough to make those of us still full from lunch want to lie down in the hallway and force anyone dumb enough to remain committed to walk around us. It might not be so bad. They could drop food down to us, or if that was not possible, crumbs from their PowerBars and bags of microwave popcorn surely would end up within an arm's length sooner or later. The cleaning crews, needing to vacuum, would inevitably turn us on our sides, preventing bedsores, and we would make little toys out of runs in the carpet, which, in moments of extreme regression, we might suck on for comfort."

Joshua Ferris, Then We Came to the End 178 (2007).