Who would have thought that moving could make one philosophical? That it could cause one to ponder human nature?
I can tell you first hand moving makes one sore as well as philosophical. My mind keeps telling me I’m 30 and invincible; my body tells me the truth.
I moved Saturday. Sunday I started the process of unpacking. Being fairly organized I knew where to find the important things: my meds, deodorant, cat food (heaven forbid I can’t find THAT), makeup (ditto), and all things that make me presentable to the world.
Then I started in on the first box I came across and began putting things away. I found a few things that caused me to stop and think. Then I put them away.
They were the first items to go into the junk drawer in the kitchen of my new home.
I’m convinced everyone has a junk drawer — that important area in the kitchen where you throw old keys, matchbooks, odds and ends that may come in handy someday and will become essential only if you ever throw them away. I’ve had as many as three junk drawers going at a time.
Of course, when I was packing to move I cleaned out the former junk drawer. I’m waiting for the precise moment — and I know it will come — when I will need something that I tossed rather than moved and will wish I had it back.
Except for two keys on a ring. I’ve had them forever. I forgot what they unlock. But I keep them because, who knows? I might need them someday.
What is it about keys that we can’t just throw them out? Really all they’re good for is cluttering up junk drawers. Along with the instruction manual to my Swiffer Wet-Jet, which I already know how to use. It’s not rocket science; it mops floors. But I may need that manual someday. You just never know. I’ll keep it right there with those keys.......
I’ll bet anything Martha Stewart has a junk drawer. I’ll bet there are keys in it too.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
After all is said and done, then what?
It’s common speculation; at the end of the world all that will be left alive are roaches.
Not a pleasant thought, but it does describe well how resilient the little critters are. They’ve been around since prehistoric times, they defy annihilation attempts on our part, and after civilization ends, they’ll probably still be around.
From a philosophical standpoint, it also illustrates that the more annoying and the least desirable something is, the more likely it is to outlive everything around it.
A conservation agent recently speculated that coyotes will be living among the roaches at the end of the world. No one especially likes them, they’re annoying and unpleasant, so they’ll thrive. Bunnies and fawns should be so lucky.
Let’s take this a step or two further. Houseflies are a given. They’re right up there with the roaches. Any critter that can hold still until just inches away from a fast-approaching telephone book and then fly away unscathed will be around long after humans are gone. A small percentage of flies may end up as a frog’s lunch, but the majority have nothing to worry about.
There’s little in life that’s less irritating than a pre-programmed recorded sales call. I predict that they too will survive the end of time as we know it. An earthquake tremor will activate the device that dials numbers at random; connection will be made. At that fateful instant, a rock will fall on an abandoned cell phone hitting the “answer” button, and then will be heard, “You have been chosen.....”
Or, if a telephone connection is made and there’s no one to hear it, does it make a sound?
After all of humanity is but a memory, my guess is that on every empty road there will be at least one abandoned shoe. I’ve always wondered where all those abandoned shoes come from. You never see designer pumps on the road; just sneakers and flip-flops, and only one, never a pair. Who rides in a car with their feet hanging out the window? What happened to the other shoe; should we wait for it to drop too? Once I was waiting for a light to change, I heard a noise, and there in front of me on the street was a flip-flop that hadn’t been there before. Did it fall from the sky? I didn’t see it fall. How did it get there?
Perhaps we should find comfort that when we’ve all gone on to a better place, life’s irritants — large and small — will remain here. Bugs, flies, coyotes, telemarketers, old shoes, loud TV commercials — for them, this is as good as it gets.
Not a pleasant thought, but it does describe well how resilient the little critters are. They’ve been around since prehistoric times, they defy annihilation attempts on our part, and after civilization ends, they’ll probably still be around.
From a philosophical standpoint, it also illustrates that the more annoying and the least desirable something is, the more likely it is to outlive everything around it.
A conservation agent recently speculated that coyotes will be living among the roaches at the end of the world. No one especially likes them, they’re annoying and unpleasant, so they’ll thrive. Bunnies and fawns should be so lucky.
Let’s take this a step or two further. Houseflies are a given. They’re right up there with the roaches. Any critter that can hold still until just inches away from a fast-approaching telephone book and then fly away unscathed will be around long after humans are gone. A small percentage of flies may end up as a frog’s lunch, but the majority have nothing to worry about.
There’s little in life that’s less irritating than a pre-programmed recorded sales call. I predict that they too will survive the end of time as we know it. An earthquake tremor will activate the device that dials numbers at random; connection will be made. At that fateful instant, a rock will fall on an abandoned cell phone hitting the “answer” button, and then will be heard, “You have been chosen.....”
Or, if a telephone connection is made and there’s no one to hear it, does it make a sound?
After all of humanity is but a memory, my guess is that on every empty road there will be at least one abandoned shoe. I’ve always wondered where all those abandoned shoes come from. You never see designer pumps on the road; just sneakers and flip-flops, and only one, never a pair. Who rides in a car with their feet hanging out the window? What happened to the other shoe; should we wait for it to drop too? Once I was waiting for a light to change, I heard a noise, and there in front of me on the street was a flip-flop that hadn’t been there before. Did it fall from the sky? I didn’t see it fall. How did it get there?
Perhaps we should find comfort that when we’ve all gone on to a better place, life’s irritants — large and small — will remain here. Bugs, flies, coyotes, telemarketers, old shoes, loud TV commercials — for them, this is as good as it gets.
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