Welcome to Staticity

Fye, here is a small exchange we had this morning via e-mail.

D: ..Anyhow, how is the new moisturizer working for ya?

B: I will know by the end of the day. I actually like the way it smells. How do you like it?

D: Um, fine. At least, I'm not scratching myself like a jute monkey.

B: Lol, did you do that yesterday?

D: No, yesterday I just seethed and boiled on the inside. And then all that rage spilt out like a giant vat of ugly purple-green goop from a witch's rogue cauldron. A witch who failed her Potions lessons, mind you. But then you came along and cleaned it all up by just being sweet and giving me some food. My dear unafraid biohazard janitor.

B: !... What?

D: Welcome to my la-la-land, my friend. Blame it on the white owls on my earlobes if you want.

What got all this going was (no prizes for guessing) static. Yet again. Despite the war that our loyal little humidifier wages all night on our behalf, we're mired in mind games. It is almost like a Mexican stand-off between us and the light switches, car doors, remote controls, etc.. up until the moment we admit defeat and get zapped anyhow. My research (Google; not sitting cross legged on the library floor with giant dusty reference books around me) gave me options which failed miserably - touching warm metal keys, spraying that stinky aerosol, washing hands with warm water, staying moisturized. The last, which in turn, led us to spend a good 15 minutes in the lotion aisle yesterday at the store, trying to find a real good moisturizer that would not make me all dry and scratchy and static-y. And hence the freak exchange.