A Poor Excuse for a Blog Post

So, the other day, I run up to the neighborhood drugstore which has a post office in the back. I mail two packages. I walk around all of the aisles to the front where four or five people are in the cash register line. I get in it. When it is my turn to pay, I am as stunned as the cashier. We stare at my hands. They are empty. I'm not buying anything. I just came in here to mail some packages.

I shrug my shoulders at the cashier and walk out of the store. You see, reader, I am getting used to this kind of crazy.

Lately, I'll start out to clean, say, the kitchen. While scrubbing the counter, I find a letter. Oh! I need to add this address to my gmail contacts. Reading email, I realize I haven't paid tuition on a poetry workshop. Which takes me to the bedroom for the paperwork tucked in the rotating stack of books by my bed. While making up the bed, I notice a book I've borrowed. I'll just put this book in the car to return. So efficient! On the way back from the car, I see fire ants on my sidewalk. The fire ant chalky death powder is in the shed out back.

And that is how I find myself, three hours later, in the backyard. With the entire contents of the shed spread out on the lawn. With no kitchen cleaned, no bills paid, and a sidewalk still teeming with fire ants. Of course, now I only have an hour to clean the sweat off of my body and drive to work.

So I gotta go, because now I only have thirty minutes.