As a tight knit family in a tight-fit house — four people, three ladies, two bedrooms, one bath, no space — we share everything. Besides my T-shirts, the most intimate thing we share is germs.
So when Thing 1 and Thing 2 came home with a bug last week, I knew my time was short. It hit full force Monday at work. Otherwise courteous and friendly co-workers became plague-fearing villagers, fleeing the vicinity of my cubicle, screaming through hands they prayed stopped bacteria.
So home I sat on Tuesday, viewing the world from my windows; one showing leafless tree branches swaying in the breeze outside my living room, the other a stream of guileless and inane information on my computer monitor.
With my web-surfer's truncated attention span now clouded by fever and cold meds, I had these random insights on the state of our illusion:
Does anyone else think it's ironic, yet sadly fitting, that Robin Leach is the spokesperson for GoldMax, one of the cash-for-gold services? Champagne wishes have turned to anchovy dreams.
Random news headline: “Boy dies after shooting himself with tiny cannon.” Size really doesn't matter. Thanks, MSNBC.
When you come to a fork in the road, use it to eat some cake.
That is an example of a paraprosdokian; a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence is surprising or unexpected in an often humorous way, causing the reader to reframe or reinterpret the first part. Kind of how I want my life remembered someday.
Though Costco gas is cheaper, that's not why I go there. I get my gas at Costco because lining up and waiting 30 minutes to fill my tank makes me nostalgic for simpler times: the 70's, when women wore nylons they bought in an egg, men reeked of Hai Karate and kids only needed one pair of sneakers.
Why am I still having that dream where I can't remember my junior high locker combination?
Are they still called sneakers?
Another random headline: “Rick Santorum glitter-bombed again.” The offender was immediately taken to a de-glittering clinic run by Michele Bachmann's husband. Thanks, Huffington Post.
When someone tells you, “It's all good,” it most likely isn't.
My favorite quote: “You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.” C.S. Lewis
The more I watch the news, read commentaries, watch debates and weigh all the information available to us, the more I realize that we are screwed — politically speaking, of course. I don't know that it matters who is in the White House. With the toxic anger and venomous, self-righteous rhetoric of all our representative leaders today, it's only going to get worse.
But I'm still going to vote.
My new favorite quote: “Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.” Winnie the Pooh
This just in: Final tallies from the Iowa caucuses have just been certified. And the winner is Bob Dole by one vote. (News from 1980 being stifled by the liberal media.)
Small Wonders: Sick-day musings gleaned from computer
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