There once was a man who carried his house on his back. He carried it with him everywhere he went. He hated to leave anything behind and besides there were many things that wouldn't fit inside his pockets. So every morning he crouched down and hoisted his house upon his back and went on his way.
People thought it strange at first; but, like the poisons they ate or the crimes they committed, they soon grew accustomed to it.
"It's sad though," said one of his neighbors to her husband one morning over coffee, "He'll never know the joy of coming home."
-- Frequent Bilerico guest blogger and commentor Ray Jencar in his post, "Le Mot Juste"