Fresh Air and Late Mornings

I happened to be coming in to work late, and as I walk, I have time to enjoy the smell of freshly-cut grass, the sounds of birds chirping in the trees, the sights of a car stopped in the middle of the road with the driver running around it madly. And the sights of the tiny dog, running around the car just as fast, just a few feet in front of the driver. Sights I certainly wouldn't have seen, had I made it to work at my normal time. Or if I'd driven in, as that leads me down a different route, down a path more-traveled.

Maybe if I were to walk in later more often, I would have a more interesting morning commute. Maybe tomorrow there will be a boat floating down the road, or a tree dropping things on random passer-byers. Money grows on trees, you know. And parrots eat nuts and fruit. Maybe I should change my schedule, and begin to work later days, if only for the more interesting commute.

But then, I'm planning on working later. Planning on coming in later, staying later, waking later, sleeping later. Which I've done before, but this time, I'm expecting to do so without changing timezones.

Somehow, though, coming in later then will be different. I will no longer be walking in then; I'll be in a car. And I doubt I'll have worked for a couple hours before deciding it's time to actually come in to work. Oh, and the dog's been returned to its owner, so no more cars should need to stop so their drivers can chase it. But maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe next time it'll be a parrot.

Who Swapped My Wallet?

I went shopping.  Traumatic experience every time; there's a reason I avoid it as much as possible.  But I could avoid it no longer, so I went shopping.

One of my many purchases (after the elephant, but somewhere before Venus) was some superglue, and something I always forget about purchasing superglue (because I do it oh so often) is that it's apparently on the "18 or older" list.  I guess that similar to R-rated movies, it's harmful to a child's mental development.  Or maybe old fogies just got tired of having tricks played on them.  Either way, I was asked, "are you eighteen?"

I thought I'd finally stopped being asked that question.  I'd thought that finally I'd no longer have to haul out my driver's license.  I also knew that I'd been wrong before and will be wrong since, but I'd hoped nonetheless.  I'll learn better than to hope one of these days.

But when I got this somewhat confused look on my face and vaguely nodded, I guess she took that as a yes.  It was meant more as a, "I'm sorry, I don't think I really understand the question.  Am I allowed to laugh when I answer?"  But she took it as a yes.  Between the repeated searching glances and the inquisitive stare I'm fairly certain she didn't believe it, but she didn't ask again so I didn't feel like helping her out any.  Or hauling out my driver's license, who wants to show that picture if they can help it?

Certainly not me.  Even if it was right next to the credit card I had to haul out anyway.  Which brings up another question..  Why do they have the card readers for patrons to use if they're just going to request to see your credit card anyway?  Oh, and what kind of stupid question is "Is that your last name?" anyway?  She at least got to see the puzzled look and vague nod again.

Thankfully my last name matched that on the card, but if she'd asked if that was my first name, I'd've never been able to get my superglue!

A Jewel-Encrusted, Gold-Plated Dining Room Chair

So I watched Mr. Deeds Goes To Town, which I recommend seeing at least once. Anyway, it brings up the question, "what would it be like to inherit a huge fortune?"

I think that I could come up with some good uses for an inherited fortune. But uses that wouldn't cause other people to think I'm insane? Hmm, I guess that removes the choice of swimming pools full of green jello. But there're still things left.

So, if I had a bazillion dollars (that is enough that I could buy whatever I want without having to worry about saving because I'd still have a bazillion left), there're a few things I'd have on my "to-buy" list.

First, a cat. I'd really like to have a cat, but I currently don't. Not that I couldn't, but rather I'm not at my place very often, so I figure it wouldn't be fair to a cat that would have the place to itself most of the day. But if I had a bazillion dollars, I could take it /with/ me places, and if they tried to remove me because of the cat, I could just buy the establishment.

Second, a rock. Or, well, several rocks. See, I have several board games, and most board games require pieces. But some of my board games are missing their pieces, which could be replaced by really well-cut diamonds or emeralds or even uncut hunks of limestone. So I could replace them now, but if I had a bazillion dollars, I might even manage to find people to play the games with me. Without other players, replacing the pieces would be silly.

And third, I think I'd get a chair for my dining room. Maybe even a table. Because when people come to watch movies, we run out of seating, and having more seats would be good. Although I suppose I might just buy an actual house if I had a bazillion dollars, but really all I need is another chair.