Life

Getting old is funny.  I can't tell you how many times I have myself in stitches over the silly things I do. 

A couple of days ago my phone rang, I picked up my cable remote and pointed it at the phone...Really?!  Dumb, dumb, dumb.

And, of course there was the episode with the dog food.  I gave that one to Frankie
...but we all know it was me that put that horrible hunk of meat in my mouth.  It was awful.  No wonder my dog drinks a lot of water, man that stuff was salty.

Oh, yesterday morning I had picked up the Peanut Butter toy and put it on the kitchen counter...then my mind wandered...somewhere...and a few minutes later I'm on my hands and knees in the living room looking for that darn toy.  When I can't find it I decided to use the top of my poultry baster...I return to the kitchen and there on the counter I find the toy.  Man, did I laugh.  Not just because I had been hand and kneeing it, but because I had had this wonderful conversation with Zorro while I looked.  He loves when I get down to his level.

I needed a new book of checks...I thought I had put a new one in the lock box so I would not have to open the safe, but it was not there.  Of course I had to open the safe thinking my memory had played a trick on me and I would find the book there.  Imagine my alarm, when the sequence of twenty-five numbers I needed was not there either.  Was I going crazy?  I don't know about you, but if anything financial is involved I tend to go a bit bonkers. 

Imagine heavy breathing...and panic...where's my pills, where's my pills.

After spending quite a bit of time searching and re-searching places the checks might be, it finally occurs to me, maybe, just maybe I put the checks in my purse.  Guess where they were?  (Well, now that I think about it this was not so much funny.)

However, this morning's event was.  I just about emptied the peanut butter jar, gave Zorro his morning dose and went to make the bed.  My life is hum-de-dummmBing along, and I finally return to the kitchen.  There in the sink sits the empty peanut butter jar.  I take one last look inside to make sure I am not wasting one last smidgen.  Yep, it looks like I might be able to scrape a little bit more on to a spoon.

So scrape I do.  A thin layer of PB is stuck to the edge of the spoon.  I bring that delightful morsel closer to my lips.  Wait a minute, there's a kind of yellow film covering the peanut butter.  WHAT THE HECK IS THAT? 

Silly, silly, silly me...thank goodness I had my glasses on. Close inspection showed me I had totally forgotten I had squirted some liquid dish detergent into the jar to rinse it out to prepare it for recycle...how close was I to burping bubbles all morning?  The thought of burping bubbles made me giggle and the giggles turned me into a cartoon character, and I envisioned myself walking through a park having conversations with furry creatures, all my words inside iridescent circles, popping hither any yon about a comic book page. 

I'm telling you, old is funny.  When you are in the process of reaching old, you are required to act and behave in a certain manner, otherwise they will haul you off to the loony-bin.  But, when you're old, silly stuff happens...just about every day...it's best to get yourself an imaginary friend and blame the stuff on her, otherwise, you just might haul yourself off to a loony-bin.  Picture that!  TEE, Hee, hee.