Today in the mail I got one of those squeezy ball stress relief type things but it wasn’t in the shape of a ball…it’s a pickle. Not that a squeezy pickle shouldn’t come with it’s own squeezy ball (or balls). For some strange reason I find my new squeezy pickle mesmerizing, as if it’s calling my name and saying “Ira, squeeze me.”At least it’s not telling me to rub it or something perverse like that.
I have other squeezy type items in my office. There’s a few squeezy balls, an avocado (complete with nut) and a squeezy light bulb, which should help me come up with bright ideas but I think it’s blown it’s fuse or filament or whatever makes a light bulb glow because it never spoke to me. On the other hand (need to watch my words on this one), the pickle did inspire to call a potential new client who sells pickles. I mean actually pickles…sours, dills, garlic and other yummy stuff.
I have also been using my pickle to relieve my stress and after all, isn’t that what a stress relief pickle is supposed to do. But when I do use the squeezy pickle for it’s intended purpose, I feel like I should take a shower or at least wash my hands. And I get the funny feeling the pickle likes it when I squeeze it. I’m just beginning to think that it’s a dirty little pickle with a mind of it’s own. Now I have to deal with two of them.