Eez Inger Ed Ookies Are Ood

Sometimes I think about backpacks. Let's see, the newspaper in my left hand, coke in the other. I spy the tin of homemade ginger bread cookies a client gave my wife for Christmas. I put down the newspaper and coke, take the tin top off and get a cookie. I tuck the newspaper under my left arm to hold the cookie in my left hand and grab the class of coke with my right.

I hear my wife downstairs. "Barry, can you bring down the can of chex mix please?"

I put down the newspaper, cookie, coke and take the can of chex mix out of the pantry. I cradle the chex mix between my right arm and chest so I can hold the glass of coke. The newspaper, tucked in my left armpit, cookie in left hand.

"Honey, can you fix me a coke too?" (In most southern stated this translates to filling a glass with ice and pouring in any kind of soft drink, including coke products.)

I put down newspaper, cookie, chex mix, and my coke. Fixed wife a coke. Cradle chex mix on right side, wife's coke in right hand, tucked newspaper in left arm pit, and my coke in left hand. The ginger bread cookie delicately held between my teeth. 

I stepped downstairs, Wallenda-like, without spilling a drop.