One of the side effects of having an English degree is that I remember famous works of literature but only the weird ones. The one I’m remembering lately is extra creepy. It’s a short story told by a narrator who insists he’s just nervous, not crazy. He’s anxious because he killed an old man for a bizarre reason: He couldn’t stand the sight of the old man’s “vulture eye,” which is a pale blue eye with a cloudy film.
My mother is radioactive. You wouldn’t know it by looking at her. She’s dozing in a recliner, and the only hint that something is wrong is the sign on the door which reads “Caution: Radioactive materials.”
There’s no month quite like January. It wants us awake at the stroke of midnight for parties, fireworks, a kiss, and a toast to the New Year. But then it steamrolls in at daybreak with demands that we drop and give it 50 push-ups before the first cup of coffee.
What some people call "the most wonderful time of the year" can also be the most exhausting. With all the extra events, shopping, cleaning, cooking, traveling, hosting and more, it can make us want to crawl into the nearest stocking and take a long winter s nap.