I’m steaming the wrinkles out of the shirt and tie i intend to wear tomorrow, and every time i walk into the bathoom to check on them my lungs are heavy with air and my hair magically lifts itself into frizzy little curls. I wish i could have a room full of static electricity too … or maybe i could just use the dryer from time to time and wind up with the static and the crisp clothes. There’s a thought…