My dad emailed me as follows. I love him.
Yes, happy things!
Like little rainbows in every footprint as you walk through the
iridescently oil-surfaced puddle of water thinly spreading over the
concrete of the windiest spot on earth and doubtless several other
planets while the sniveling ugly child-like cold and wet wind on your
doorstep makes its cheerful way down your neck and into your impervious
malformed vestiture in an attempt to steal your breath away or perhaps
your convulsively grasped packages.
Not to mention stepping over the rivulet of gray water running down from
the direction of the BEST office.
Today, or rather yesterday, I was on my way to the van to go to work, and
carrying forty-leven small items in my hands with the coffee mug and a
ring of keys and numerous other small items and a clipboard too full of
important loose pages and trying to dig through my jammed full pockets
for the tiny car key-and-fob (which I use to keep from jamming my pockets
full) I felt something slip past the little finger of my left hand and
(as a logical necessity of physics --i.e. I did not hear it land) into
the wet uncut grass and leaves mat I was walking across. Being occupied
with attaining my goal while calculating the percentage of possibility
that the electrical inspector will not ask me for the figures from my
load calculations for the split level addition project I was working on,
it did not occur to me until several steps later that what fell might
actually not be easily visible once I had set things down in a secure and
dry location. Yet, since I am not given to panic, I persisted on my way
with only a short backward glance which confirmed my lack of occuration
(that it might not be easily visible once I had set things down in a
secure and dry location), causing a vague panic to rise up in the back of
my mind, like the nagging pressure from your bladder that you just don't
have time to deal with quite yet.
Attaining my goal, I handily slipped my car key from my jammed full
pocket without losing any of its contents (yay), unlocked AND OPENED the
driver's door spilling hardly a drop of coffee (also yay), and deposited
all my things in a secure and dry location. I then took a short
inventory of what I had brought with me so that I would know what to look
for when I went the few steps back to the general location of the
aforementioned incident of feeling something fall past my little finger
as though on its way into a well hidden and possibly masterly disguised
spot under the wet cold leaves and uncut grass. I looked back again and
squelched my vague panic as another vague thought, as quickly subdued as
a small prick of conscience, came to me that it was not good that I was
foolishly considering that what I had felt falling probably was nothing
and even if it was something it was not important enough to worry about
this morning even though if I do not look for it and don't realize during
the day what I was missing so that I would HAVE to look for it and indeed
would look for it, as though the decision was made for me in which case I
would not have to appease my conscience while not looking, it would soon
be covered with snow for several long and dismal months, and I would
regret not looking for it, but right now I really did not care.
I finally listened to my conscience and returned to flip a couple of
leaves, even though (I told my conscience) I probably didn't even really
drop anything and it was probably not an important or necessary thing I
had probably really not even dropped and even if it was.......well I
really didn't care right now. I left the leaves unflipped, since that
can cover things up that remain on the surface, you know. And I hate wet
knees.
Now what was it I was thinking about? Man! this truck is a mess. How
will I ever know if I am missing something? Oh, well.
Maybe if I bought a metal detector. Naw....
As I snugged the seat belt up, I felt a vague nagging pressure from my
bladder. Should I go back into the house? my conscience asked.
Naw........the coffee will get cold, and I have already wasted a lot of
time messing about the house looking for my --what was it I was looking
for? Did I find it? I hope I found it, whatever it was. Go away,
conscience, I don't have time to go back and remember what it was, in
case I need it today at work. No! Yes, maybe I do have a payment due,
but I don't care. Shutup! If I have to pay a late penalty, I have to
pay it. If I can't pay it, and have to declare personal bancruptcy, so
be it. I am leaving! I am going to my important work!
It may not be poetic, but I love being my own boss.