Dilema

Today at dinner, I was loathe to realize that I had somehow procurred a disgusting blob of sour cream on my sweater sleeve. And, being the six year old I secretly am, I was going to simply rub it off onto my pants, as I do with basically anything yucky that comes in contact with my hands. However, just before the sour cream was transferred from fabric to fabric, I realized just how counterproductive this would be. Therefore, I stood in my kitchen, looking around blankly, wondering what in the world to rub this mess of white shmear onto. Alas, I realized, like most civilized folk, that a napkin would do just fine. And thus the bit of processed dairy was disposed of. The end.