I’m working the front desk this morning, where I can’t work on regular tasks, so I came up with a few descriptions for the fog this morning and thought I’d share.
The fog stuck to the ground like a lazy teenager on a Saturday morning.
The fog refused to budge like a donkey taking a nonchalant break in the middle of a half-plowed field.
The fog sat listless on the ground like a toddler pitching a tantrum.
The fog hung heavily like sleep-crusted eyelids clinching themselves closed against the morning sun.
The fog settled in like a cat curling up in its owner’s lap.