Let’s Try This Again
TINY SIGNS OF LIFE
Well, my statistics have nearly flat-lined, except for one hopeful soul checking back now and then to see if anything’s happened here. That, and Rom’s sister Mary, who has taken the opportunity to GET CAUGHT UP on 38 posts!
CRISIS IN PROGRESS–OVERHEARD ACROSS THE ROOM
“Ma’am, the police won’t help you get back your $16,000 in drug money.”
CREATE YOUR OWN CRISIS
“Caller followed a reckless driver, blocked him in, and subject hit caller’s car while trying to escape.”
Email from CVS: “Hey, do you need deodorant?” Who told you I did?
AN INJURY ONLY I COULD GET
While out running errands the other day, I miscalculated some steps while I had a straw in my mouth, and ended up with a small straw-related abrasion on the inside of my upper lip. I’d poke my eye out with a straw, if I didn’t wear glasses.
DOING BATTLE WITH THE BUS DRIVER
Remember the bus driver who was militant about not allowing fountain drinks on the bus? (Of course you remember.) On Saturdays, when I know she’ll be driving, I just get a small Thornton’s drink, which I can finish while I wait at the stop. This time when she pulled up, I threw my ice out, got onto the bus and put my cup in the bus trash can–and she said, “Come on, I ain’t got time for that.” So not only can I not bring my drink on the bus–even though no other driver minds, as long as it has a lid–but you’re telling me I’m not supposed to have a drink WHILE I WAIT?? Then, as if to validate her point of view, her trash can got wedged under her seat, and my cup fell out and rolled onto the floor, and she made a Big Deal about pulling the bus over so someone (not me, I was too far in the back of the bus) could pick the cup up, because you all know what a hazard an unsecured Styrofoam cup presents on a moving conveyance.
…AND WHILE I’M CALLING TO MIND MY OFFENSES….
…Didn’t I used to have a…pet, or a companion animal, or something? Something in the form of…a dragon, perhaps? But with certain catlike qualities? And almost as smart as a human? But surely such a thing, if I indeed had it, would not require, well, food or other care, would it? And would not suffer if neglected? Being, as it was, a mythical beast? Hmm. It’s all a blur now….