"I think if you spent some time with him, you'd benefit by it."
"Aren't I a little old to be an apprentice?"
"Stop learning, start dying...you're never too old to learn."
Vince grinned, and just for a second he didn't look at all non-descript. He had the kind of smile that could change the climate of a room."
"...and I found myself face-to-face with two dozen men wearing body armor and pointing sleek looking high-tech assault rifles at the end of my nose. I did absolutely nothing. Carefully."
I have a problem with wet hands. If I'm doing something where the hands need to be wet, cleaning the shower, washing dishes, that's okay, but as soon as I'm finished I'll dry my hands. Thoroughly. No dampness allowed.
In the early mornings, once Angel has finished annoying the heck out of me, he'll settle in front of the keyboard for his purring ear scratching routine. When my stomach insists that it is way past time for breakfast I'll shoo him off (Angel) and wash my hands. And dry them. Thoroughly. No dampness allowed.
Spoon yoghurt into a bowl, add the cold pressed oils; one teaspoon of flaxseed oil, two teaspoons of apricot kernel oil, then remember that I have to wash the apricots before chopping them into the yoghurt. Again, my hands get wet and need to be dried. Thoroughly. No dampness allowed.
Chop the apricots, add them to the yoghurt with my now sticky fingers and wash&dry the hands for the third time in less than half an hour.
This sort of thing continues throughout the day.
I swear I spend more time washing and drying my hands than I do on anything else.
You’re Patience Will Expire Before The Food
1 hour ago