"You have ..." he could barely get the words out. "You have jelly ... on your back."
It has come to this, my friends. It is not just that I leave a trail of crumbs—inadvertently, unlike the cautious Hansel—wherever I go. Not just that I am unable to bring a spoon to my mouth without dribbling its contents down my chin. Not just that I sleep under sheets more crusted with peanuts and chocolate flakes than a Snickers bar. No, it's much worse -- I now have food that I don't even eat show up on places on my body I can't even reach.
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