That title just about sums it up, doesn’t it? I actually have two stories about tongues this week. One thought-provoking and one odd.
First, the thought-provoking.
Someone comes up to me the other day and says “My tongue has been cold all day… how do I warm it up?”
<thinking some more…>
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that my tongue has never felt cold before. It feels like, well, a tongue. I don’t know what this person was doing with said tongue to make it cold, and I don’t know how said person cured this said issue – but it just made me stop in wonderment.
Second, the odd.
So I’m standing in our office kitchen, the veritable home off all things odd. Between strangely inappropriate signs, people that can’t clean up after themselves, and three-year old chicken vindaloo, the kitchen at our office is the very melting pot of flotsam and jetsam that makes this world great.
Anyway, I’m standing at the microwave heating up a cup of coffee which is placed conveniently next to the sink and paper towel dispenser. An older gentlemen (I don’t know why I mention his age other than the fact that it seems like this is a very ‘olderly gentlemenly’ thing to do) sidles up beside me, casually reaches out for a brown paper towel, takes it out of the dispenser, folds in once and then licks it.
I’ll let that sink in for a second.
Then he did it again.
I’ll give you two seconds this time.
Then he took two more paper towels, added them to his already licked pile in his hand, and casually walked out like what he did was completely normal. All of this without ever saying a word to me or acknowledging my presence. To me, it seemed like he had done this a thousand times before, felt no shame, and would do it a thousand times in the future. It was his new normal.
I don’t have anything further to add to these stories. I don’t think I have to.