- I am not a book-learner. I’m a jump-in-head-first, Papa Berenstein Bear kind of learner. I usually end up with more “that’s-how-it-shouldn’t-be-done” moments than “ah-ha” moments.
My next thought was, “If I was watching this unfold in a television show, what would I be telling me to do? Would I be on the edge of my seat hoping I could lock the doors faster or would I be screaming warnings to the stupid woman who did not seem to realize that an unattended, open door could mean only one thing - someone else was in the house?”
So, to appease the nagging voices in my head, I begin a search of the upstairs, trying to remember if I had heard any noise that was strange or out of the ordinary. Well, that’s pretty hard to remember because I’ve always joked about the ghosts I hear in this house. And they’re usually upstairs when I hear them so I would have just subconsciously dismissed any creaking floorboard or flushing toilet or dragging of the maimed left foot or rattling of chains as “My Ghost”. I search anyway, turning on all the lights as I look behind doors and in closets. I won’t look under the beds though. The Boogey Man can hide under there all he wants. When I was little I always dreamed of snakes and reaching hands that lived under beds and sofas and chairs and tables and waited for me to walk by close enough so they could reach out and grab my ankle. Snakes were the worst, though, because they could slither under closed doors. Okay, I gotta stop. I’m alone tonight and I going to creep myself out.
Yes, the salesman has sent him four (4) large bottles of Noni Juice, which in the multi-level marketing world is a little bit pricey. However, Alan tells me these four bottles are just for me. The salesman has promised Alan all the little woman's ailments will go away by drinking just one (1) ounce of this elixer before every meal until the four bottles are gone. Of course, at that point, I'll be addicted and will have to get a second or third job to support the Noni habit (since my first job supports my black juice habit). However, does Stepford Wives comes to anyone's mind but mine?
I finally broke down tonight, though, and drank my first ounce. It didn't taste near as nasty as it smelled and I've only thought about going and putting Alan's slippers by his La-Z-Boy (which would be the Papa Chair in the previous photo) one time. And I caught myself before I made it all the way upstairs. Good thing, too, because Alan doesn't have any slippers!
Now, I have some questions. Mostly inane but questions, just the same. If you have the answers, I can’t offer a reward, but I can certainly give my gratitude and you could sleep better at nights knowing I wasn’t tossing and turning under the weight of all these unknowns.
1. If they refer to ‘packing the kitchen sink’ when they mean you packed everything, why aren’t kitchen sinks big enough to hold all the dirty dishes? If the sink would hold the dirty dishes, I wouldn’t see them and therefore wouldn’t feel the nagging need to do them.
So, here we are, forever later (because, once again, I have no internet access). Oh, wait, I just looked and it's working now. Yeehaw!!! Now I just have to cut and paste (which is actually two things and I already pointed out how well I can multi-task!) And I keep burping Noni Juice so, on that note, I’m going to go see if I can finish something else before the clock strikes. . . whatever the next thing is it's going to reach out and strike. Might as well do something, since now I’ve missed my ritual watching of Perry Mason, I Love Lucy and My Three Sons. Oh, well.