Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, February 28, 2010

I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, January 16, 2009

9:33 p.m.

That's the time that I'm beginning this post. I'm obsessed with time. And not in a "I'm getting older and realizing that the years are slipping away and whoa is me...where did the time go..."way.
9:34 p.m.

I just have this need to know what time it is. Constantly. I've had this obsession for as long as I can remember. Even if I have nowhere to go and nothing to do, the first thing I do in the morning is put my watch on and the last thing I do before I go to sleep is take it off. If I lie in bed too long before I fall asleep, I have to turn and look at the clock. 11:30. 11:35. 11:38. Then the thoughts start running in my head. Fall asleep. Fall asleep. Fall asleep! Because before you know it, it will be 5:30 a.m. 5:35. 5:40.

When I go on a date, I check my watch all night long. "Um, is there somewhere you need to be?"

I have a clock on my computer, my desk, my phone, my pager, the bank sign on the way into work, the window of the bakery shop, the dashboard of my car. Everywhere I turn, I see the time. And I'll look at all of them and still check my watch. Some women collect shoes or purses. I collect watches and clocks.
9:36 p.m.

Do you remember the song "Time" by the Alan Parsons Project? Even today, when I hear that song, I get so sad. And I couldn't even tell you why. Wait...okay I'm remembering the words now. Oh, it makes me sad because it's so damn depressing. Okay, scratch that. Bad example.

I found out recently that there's a name for my problem. It's CHRONOMANIA. (Greek khronos, time + Greek mania, obsession, madness; cf. megalomania, balletomania) - obsession with time and speed; inclination to utilize every moment and to submit one's life to a total time control.

Yes, that would be me. I'm a chronomaniac.

I wonder if there are support groups for Chronomaniacs. As with a lot of 12 step programs, I'm sure the group would focus on abstinence from the behavior so how would we know when the meeting was over?

Well, anyway, it's been a busy week and I told myself I wanted to be asleep by 10:00. It's already 9:40 and 10 seconds, 15 seconds....20 seconds....

C Cleveland

Saturday, February 27, 2010

One of the most unique buildings perched beside the Lake Erie shoreline is the Cleveland Public Power plant building. What’s so unique about a power plant, you ask?

This one has a 300-by-108 foot wide mural of a dozen whales swimming in the ocean. The wall, titled Song of the Whales, is the brainchild of world renowned marine artist, Wyland.

Wyland and a large group of volunteers who stirred paint and applied brushstrokes under his direction, finished the mural in 6 days. A record time given that most murals take at least thirty days. It's an awesome site to behold as you're driving by on the freeway.

A leading advocate for marine resource conservation, this native of Michigan set a goal in 1981 of painting 100 "Whaling Walls" by 2011. He reached his goal in 2008.


You can read more about this amazing artist here.

Does anyone else have a Whaling Wall in their city?

Happy Friday!

Friday, February 26, 2010

I LOVE this song. It makes me smile and every time I hear it, I want to start dancing around the room. The best line in the song is "my heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest."

Last week, I had to take Dad to the hospital for a procedure. It was a stressful day waiting and to waste some time, I wandered into the hospital gift shop. This song was faintly playing on a small radio behind the cashier when I spotted this little guy...

in all his "untrimmed chest" glory.

Is chivalry dead?

Thursday, February 25, 2010

I'm about as independent as they come. I kill my own spiders, mow my own lawn and clean my own sink trap.

You heard that right.

I know what a sink trap is and I know how to clean it.

While I'm proud that I can take care of myself, I do appreciate small chivalrous acts. Just like the art of the compliment, boys, these simple things go a long way. And not just for your wife or girlfriend. Even perfect strangers will inwardly swoon at your respect for all females.

Since I work in a large hospital with a multitude of elevators, elevator etiquette is probably my biggest pet peeve.

Now, I understand that on occasion, there are emergencies that would necessitate a man running out of the elevator before me but, c'mon, they don't happen every day.

Here's the rule. Women exit first. The end.

Depending on the time of day that I get to work, I may run into the Russian professor who has a penchant for vests and elbow patch jackets.

"You look so nice today. The pearls are a nice touch," he'll say, as he holds the door open for me.

Or the nice, young resident who offered to carry boxes out for me when he saw me struggling.

Then there's THIS guy.

"Mister It's All About Me"

I began seeing him about a week ago. The first time was when we both started walking toward the double glass doors that lead you to the elevator on the roof of the parking garage.

I saw him glance back at me as he reached the door but he ignored the fact that I was nearly on his heels and let the door shut on me. I mumbled a "thank you very much" under my breath when I stepped inside.

He responded in some foreign tongue pretending he had no grasp of English, much like Akio Toyoda did in the Congressional hearings today. I'm sure both of these clowns could probably teach English as a second language.

To add more insult, when we descended the 8 floors to street level, he rushed past me to exit the elevator as I stood there, incredulous once more. And he's done this elevator bolt three more times in the last week.

That's not how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."

Today, I got to the elevator before him. He was still a distance away but I kept looking back at him as I pounded on the down button.

"Hurry! Hurry!", I yelled to the elevator as I turned around again, feeling like a bank robber fleeing the po-po.

He was gaining ground when he dropped his keys.


"Hurry! Hurry, goddamn you!!" My heart pounded faster as I watched the numbers light up in succession.


As the door opened, I rushed inside and hit 1.

Close! Close!,
I shouted in my head, as I saw him coming through the doors, waving his arm.

"Hold the elevator!", he shouted.

I leaned forward as the doors were almost closed, "Qué?"

And THAT'S how you do it, "Mister It's All About Me."

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"When life give you lemons, make yourself a pitcher of lemondrop martinis.

You'll feel better in no time."

Lunches with Lisa

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I've never been one of those people who shop the big "day after Thanksgiving sales" but this year, I was in desperate need of a pair of winter boots, so I perused the ads on Thanksgiving night.

I found a pair of black quilted boots with a fur lining, a zip front and a sensible heel. They were stylish and practical without being matronly. I even bought a pair for my sister because I thought they were so cute. And such a steal!

My sister, Lisa, was sporting her boots when she got on the elevator at the hospital yesterday. She was riding up to the 7th floor when it stopped at 5 to let on an older, silver haired gentleman. From what Lisa could deduce, he was probably in his late 60's. He was very pleasant and joked that even though he had to go down two floors, that it was much easier to go along for the ride up rather than wait for another elevator to come.

Mr. Silver Hair smiled as he looked down at Lisa's feet.

"Boy, those are some sharp looking boots."

"Oh, that's so nice of you. Thank you.", Lisa responded, proud of her stylish footwear.

"Yes siree. Do they have a zipper, too?"

Lisa turned her foot to model them, "Yes, they sure do."

"I'm going to have to get a pair for my mother's birthday. She's gonna love them!"

"Oh...good...", Lisa's feigned a smile.

As he walked off and the door was closing, he looked back down at her feet.

"Yep. Mom's just gonna love them!"

Okay, so maybe they're a little matronly...

Are you trying to tell me something?

Monday, February 22, 2010

Okay, first my email called me old.

Now it's calling me fat.

Email, have you been peering in my windows alongside Jim?

Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, February 21, 2010

I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, April 2, 2009

I can't tell you how many times I've muttered this statement. After I've said something that's politically incorrect, cut off school buses in traffic, taken the Lord's name in vain and kept the extra change the cashier accidentally gave me. I've lost of track of how many things I've done that would guarantee me a VIP pass to Satan's lair.

Every year, I act the good Christian and impose a personal penance on myself by giving up something I love for Lent. And every year, I give up sweets. Since I grew up as a member of the Eastern Orthodox Church, our Lenten season begins the 7th Monday before Easter since we don't count Sundays when calculating the season of Great Lent.

I don't remember why. I would like to say that I missed that Sunday school class but I had perfect attendance as my personalized Bible will attest, so I'll just chalk it up to old age.

In fact, I never remember that our Lenten season starts sooner so I usually just follow what my Catholic friends do. When I start seeing purple, green and gold Mardi Gras beads in the stores, I know it's time to start gourging myself in anticipation of my weeks of sacrifice.

The first week, usually on the Monday or Tuesday before Ash Wednesday, I go to the grocery store and stock up on fruits, nuts and other healthy snacks. Then I boast to everyone within earshot that I have "given up sweets for Lent" and I bask in the glow of their admiration.

The accolades continue through the second week when, at a staff meeting, I'm presented with the dilemma of whether or not to eat a chocolate chip muffin. It's early and I haven't had breakfast yet so I glance around the room to determine if any of the attendees know about my Lenten endeavor.

The coast is clear so I lovingly place the muffin on a plate, grab a bottle of water and take a seat. A glance at the clock reveals that there are ten minutes before the meeting starts, which is plenty of time to indulge myself in my favorite morning treat. I gaze down at it, plump with chocolate chips peeking out at me and I refrain myself from teasing it with a lick, though the desire is strong.

"Why, Good Morning! I thought you gave up sweets for Lent?" I stop chewing and look up to see the woman that I had made a Lenten pact with just two weeks ago.

"I'm giving up sweets for Lent." I had told her.

"Oh my gosh, me too. How perfect! We can be each other's support."


I think back to that fateful encounter as I pretend that I'm still chewing, my mind racing for an explanation.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?" Because don't you always say this to buy yourself some extra time?

"I said, Didn't you give up sweets for Lent?" her arms are now folded across her chest and she's leaning on one hip.

"Me? Oh....oh...I must have misunderstood. What I said was that I was giving up candy, not all sweets."

"Oh, okay." she replied as she took a banana and sat down across from me.

By week three, the plethora of drugstore Easter candy starts showing up in bunny dishes atop file cabinets and desks around the department. I spoon a handful of black jelly beans (my favorite) into my hand as I'm walking out of the clinic.

"I thought you said you were giving up candy for Lent?" a voice calls to me and I fear turning around, knowing it's my support buddy.

"Hey, hi! What? Candy? No, no...what I said was that I was giving up chocolate. Not all candy because, you know, chocolate is my favorite and it is the biggest sacrifice. These jelly beans? I could take 'em or leave 'em. Hey, how are you doing?"

"Good! No sweets at all. We're doing really good!" she beams.

"We sure are. Yay, us!" I turn to walk out and grab a tissue to wipe the jelly bean blackness off my sweaty palms.

Week four arrives and I have Sunday dinner with my parents. After we eat, my mother goes into the other room and comes back with her hand behind her back.

"Guess what I have? You're fav-or-ite..." She brings her arm around front and opens her cupped hand to reveal Cadbury eggs; the most amazing once a year confection ever invented.

I grab them from her and eagerly start to unwrap one.

"Hey!" my sister scowls at me, "I thought you gave up sweets?"

"What? decided against it this year."

Oh, I'm definitely goin' to Hell for this. Anyone care to join me?

C Cleveland

Saturday, February 20, 2010

As you know, Saturday is reserved for C Cleveland, a moniker that can be interpreted as "See" Cleveland or "Chrissy's" Cleveland. I like to use the day to highlight one of the unique features that I love about my hometown.

Today, however, I will digress from regularly scheduled programming to express my irritation at the latest Forbes list that perches Cleveland atop the list of the "most miserable cities in the country".

On one hand, I hate to even acknowledge this laughable ranking but I feel like ignoring it will give it the validation it's seeking.

It's interesting that they open their evaluation of Cleveland with a long ago unfortunate fact about the town; the year the Cuyahoga River caught on fire. Yuck, yuck, how funny...the river caught on fire. We know. It was 40 years ago.

The water and air pollution of that industrial era was rampant and on that day, the oil soaked debris likely caught fire from molten steel or a spark from a passing railway car. It burned for about two hours and was a blip on the local news but it's lived in infamy ever since.

Cuyahoga River, circa 1969

Some credit that fateful fire as being the catalyst for the creation of the Clean Water Act in 1972 and for the creation of agencies such as the Environmental Protection Agency.

Today, this 100-mile river is thriving and full of fish and other aquatic species. It begins its run in rural Geauga County, heads south through Akron and back north to Cleveland.

Okay, Forbes, what else ya got?

Unemployment? Check

Lots of snow? Check

Violent crimes? Probably

High taxes? Not as high as some places

Corruption in the local government? Oh yeah...

In fact, the county is in the midst of a huge corruption scandal. Does it make me miserable? Not so much. It makes me look forward to the Lifetime movie that will likely highlight Italian One and Italian Two and how they lived lavish lifestyles with kickbacks and other "favors" in exchange for county contracts.

Italian One and Italian Two

**No formal charges have been brought against either man. The ongoing investigation refers to the suspected corrupt players as "public official one" and "public official two".

Losing sports teams? Yep. It ensures that I can decide to go to a 1:00 baseball game at 12:55 and still get good seats. Now, that doesn't work for a Cavs game but let's just focus on the negative, shall we?

Look, no one can knock Cleveland like a Clevelander. We are great at beating ourselves up, looking at the glass as half empty and always carrying an umbrella in anticipation of those dark clouds opening up.

But we do that the way you call your brother ugly and your sister stupid. We insult, bitch and moan but in the end, we love our dysfunctional home and we strive every day to make it a better place.

And if we fall down, we can be sure there's someone there to laugh at us right before they reach out their hand to lift us up.

Believe in yourself

Friday, February 19, 2010

I know I bitch about my weight, um....all the time. But for the most part, I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. I feel like I've earned the wisdom of age and apart from a few neuroses, I wouldn't change a thing.

The first thing I do when I get home from work is pull my hair back completely off my face, take off my "work clothes" and wash my makeup off. Tonight, I realized that I had forgotten to pick up a prescription so after dinner, I headed out.

As I was walking through the mega grocery store to the pharmacy, I waved hello to the produce guy, and smiled at strangers I passed along the way. I was feeling pretty proud of myself. The Chrissy of 10 years ago, 5 even, would never have ventured out without full makeup, perfectly coiffed hair and a stylish outfit. Wow, I must have really reached a new level of confidence.

I stopped at the floral shop, where an old lady was looking at the bouquets in the cooler. I walked up next to her and saw that she had her hair pulled back in a bun, nary a stitch of makeup on and was wearing a mis-matched ensemble. She mumbled something to herself, starting laughing and walked away with a bunch of daisies.

I looked back and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored display case. I was wearing my hair in a bun, I had nary a stitch of makeup on and a tug on my pant legs revealed two mis-matched socks.

Maybe I'm not so "confident in my skin", after all.

Maybe I just don't give a crap anymore.

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"If you have to ask if your butt looks probably does."


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

It's that time of year again.

The Season of Lent.

The Season when all good Christians humbly reflect for 40 days, repenting of sin, renewing their faith and joyfully celebrating the mysteries of our salvation. This is usually done by giving up cursing or apple pie.

Personally, I've spent the last week or so gourging myself before Lent starts. There's no Fat Tuesday in my world, it's Fat Saturday through Sunday.

I've decided that I'm going to give up sweets and Diet Coke. I know, an odd combination, but the Diet Coke takes away the guilt from eating all the sweets and besides, I love Diet Coke, so it really is a sacrifice.

I'm such a good Christian.

One of my secrets is that I'm a food addict and sweets are my drug of choice. In the past, when I gave up cookies and candy, I would reach for potato chips as a substitute. So this year, I'm being proactive and giving up potato chips, too.

Without sweets, Diet Coke and potato chips, I will likely turn to pretzels, so they're on the list now as well.

So let's see, I'm giving up sweets, Diet Coke, potato chips and pretzels. Without all those yummies, I bet I'll reach for fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Yep, better add that to the list. Okay, no sweets, Diet Coke, potato chips, pretzels, fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy.

I wonder if ice cream is considered a sweet? I better give that up, too. No sweets, Diet Coke, potato chips, pretzels, fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy and ice cream.

You know, as I'm looking over this list, I'm feeling completely overwhelmed at the prospect of giving up so much and I wonder if it's the right thing to do. Let me just open this Bible sitting here on my desk and trust that the first Scripture I read is a direct message from God for me.

I will surely and abundantly bless her provision; I will satisfy her poor with bread and sweets and Diet Coke.
Psalm 132: 15

Well played, God.

Hey, Vancouver!

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Since you're having a few snow "issues", why don't you move the rest of the Olympic games here?

You guys are welcome to use my driveway, too. It's pretty long.

By-ee ahee ah woo!

I heard some sad news today. Doug Fieger, the lead singer of the band, The Knack, died on Sunday at the age of 57. It was announced by the band's manager, Jake Hooker, that Doug had battled cancer.

Who doesn't remember the song, My Sharona? And if you aren't old enough to remember its first go around in 1979, maybe you saw the movie, Reality Bites in 2006, which featured it on its soundtrack.

This one hit wonder band introduced us to that bra-less shag haired chick with her "nips" showing through her white tank top.

That 45 record sleeve made this 13 year old girl long for the day that she could throw caution to the wind and do the same. Such great memories are related to this song.

There's just one thing I don't understand.

Why does The Knack still have a manager?

Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, February 14, 2010

I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, August 8, 2009

I needed to call Home Depot a few days ago. I reached for the phone to call information and I thought, Why waste the money to call 411 when I can just look it up in a phone book?

I went into the kitchen to get one and I pulled out the first one in a pile of phone books that were in the drawer.

Here we go. White pages in front, yellow in the back. I checked the white pages first. Home Depot.

Guess I'll check the yellow pages in the back.

Hardware Store....nope

Home Improvement....nope

What the heck? What else could it be under?

Paint? nope

Lumber? nope

Okay, I wasn't going to find it there so I pulled out the next phone book.

This one was yellow pages in the front, white in the back.

Again, I checked the white first.


I flipped it shut to check out the title. Maybe I was looking at a residential book. Nope. "Greater Cleveland Business Listings."

I opened it again but this time to the yellow pages in the front.

Hardware store....nope

Home improvement....yes! Home Depot! But there was only one listed and this one was 35 minutes away. My Home Depot is 3 miles up the road.

I flipped it shut again to see if I was looking at a westside book. I live on the eastside. Nope. "Greater-Cleveland-Business-Listings."

Well, it wasn't in there so I pulled out the next book. "Heights area and Surrounding Communities." That's me! I'm Heights Area and Surrounding Communities. Jackpot!

This one was all white pages. Easy enough.

H....Hanson....Herman....Heisley....wait a minute! These were all proper names. I closed the book to check the cover.

"Heights Area and Surrounding Communities
Residential Listings

Son of a bitch!

I threw the phone book on the floor and pulled the next one out, titled "The Real Yellow Pages." Well, it's about damn time.

I was feeling confident so I started with the yellow pages instead of the alphabetical white ones this time. I had luck with Home Improvement before so that was where I began.

H....H-A.....H-E.....H-O....Home Improvement. Home Depot! And there were lots of them.

Mmmmm....not my store....not my store....closer, but no.....nope.....where's that?....nope.

Son of a bitch!

It had to be in there somewhere. These were "The REAL Yellow Pages!"

H.....H-A....Hardware....Home Depot! There were a few more listed so mine must be here.

Mmmmmm....nope, not that still open?.....nope....

Son of a bitch!

I took ALL of the phone books out and threw them on the floor.

I couldn't take it anymore. What happened to TWO phone books? One residential and one business? Why can't I find a goddamn phone number??

I broke down.

"Information? What number, please?"

"Oh God, I can't remember. Let me call you back."

C Cleveland

Saturday, February 13, 2010

In the midst of snowstorms and bone chilling temperatures, it may seem like an odd time to highlight The Cleveland Metroparks Zoo. However, if you're brave enough to venture there in the winter, you'll be treated to the same amazing animals at a discounted rate. You'll just have to forgo the sno-cones for hot chocolate.

Siberian Tiger

Polar Bear



The Zoo, originally called Wade Park when it opened in 1882, used to occupy the space where the Cleveland Museum of Art stands now. In 1907, the Zoo moved to its current location to make way for construction of the museum.

Reindeers were one of the first occupants

The first Zoo occupants were animals indigenous to the area but the next 30 years saw an increase of more rare and unique animals.


Swamp Monkey

Over the years, they've added permanent exhibits that are very popular with visitors. The most popular is The Rainforest. Opened in 1992, The Rainforest is contained in a large two story building with over 2 acres of total floor space, making it one of the largest tropical indoor environments in the world. The Rainforest takes you through the jungles of Asia, Africa and South America and holds more than 6,000 plants and over 600 animals.

The first thing that hits you when you walk in the building is the tropical temperature. You'll forget you're in the middle of a typical Cleveland winter when you look up at the 25 foot waterfall cascading down in front of you.

With their silly antics, the Orangutans are a fan favorite.

However, my favorite feature is the Tropical Rain Storm that occurs every 12 minutes, complete with lighting, thunder, wind and rain.

What do you get with lots of animals? Lots of poo, of course!

As part of a comprehensive on-grounds conservation program in cooperation with area composters, the Zoo processes approximately 3,000 cubic yards of manure, hay, straw, wood shavings, woodchips, herbaceous material and leaves.

They produce mounds of the rich, sweet smelling, exotic soil and sell it to us so that we can produce gardens as spectacular as those at the Zoo.

So whether you're in the market for a pile of poo or a fun winter afternoon, The Cleveland Metroparks Zoo has something for everyone.

Horticulture is my life

Thursday, February 11, 2010

And they say I don't have a green thumb...

Lunches with Lisa

At lunch today, Lisa was telling me this story she heard about how a woman, the sole beneficiary of her sister's life insurance policy, killed her to collect the $100,000.

"Can you believe that?", Lisa exclaimed."What people won't do for money! You couldn't imagine killing me for $100,000 could you?"

I thought about it for a minute, "Is that before taxes?"

Lookin' good!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I've been battling a cold for about a week and when I got home last night, I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up three hours later and then, of course, was unable to get back to sleep so I did a little Facebook surfing.

A click here and a click there brought me to Hannah's new baby. What a beauty!

Then I compared little Marcus' pictures from this past Christmas to Christmas 2008. Gosh, he sure has grown!

Grandpa Dale isn't looking too good but he seems really happy visiting with all the grandchildren.

Marne and Jack's candid wedding shots are great! Wow, Nick took these? I'm impressed.


Then I thought to myself, Who the hell are these people and why am I looking at their pictures?!

It's good to be #1

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

I just heard on the news this morning that Cleveland, Ohio has been ranked the Number One worst winter weather city in the country. I'm so proud.

Of course, those babies in Buffalo, New York are cryin' because they're not number one. They based it on the largest cities in the country, Buffalo. Sorry, no little girly cities allowed. You can't compete with the big boys. (sniff..sniff..)

I can remember when I was a kid, walking through piles of snow, uphill both ways to get to school. My parents said it built character and I think it did! Snow days here are virtually non-existent except for those pussies in Catholic schools.

According to Forbes:

Our measures show that those in Cleveland experience the worst winter months. Located on the south shore of Lake Erie, the home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has relatively mild summers but its winters require endurance. Cleveland gets hit by lake-effect snow, averaging almost 60 inches every winter and its frigid winters help produce an average annual temperature of only 50 degrees, 10 degrees below the 50-city average.

Here's the complete list:

1) Cleveland

2) Boston

3) New York City

4) Milwaukee

5) Chicago

6) Minneapolis

7) Indianapolis

8) Columbus

9) Detroit

10) Baltimore

I have to go shovel my driveway now...

Stripper Chick Wisdom

Monday, February 8, 2010

Chrissy's real truth about life that no one will tell you.

"At the height of an orgasm, no one really cares who they're with."

Secondhand Sunday

Sunday, February 7, 2010

I'm basically too lazy to think of anything new to say so I'm re-posting a "vintage" entry.

If you aren't in the mood for repeats, please feel free to change the channel.


Original Post Date, May 4, 2009

If I invite you over to watch a movie at my house, I'll likely get up to go into the kitchen to make popcorn and I'll ask you what you would like to drink.

"Diet Coke, please", you say, and I'll stroll off to the kitchen to start popping and pouring.

A little while later, final kernel popped, I'll come back into the living room. I'll place the popcorn on the coffee table but I won't give you your Diet Coke. Not because I'm a rude hostess or I just drank the last one myself. I won't give it to you because I've forgotten that I asked you if you wanted one.

I'm kind of like the Absent Minded Professor, only not that smart. Just so highly engrossed in my own world that I forget things almost after they've been told to me.

I can remember events from the first grade but I can't remember who I was supposed to follow up with after hanging up with my supervisor, who just told me who to follow up with. I've fooled people into thinking that I'm really efficient and complete tasks as soon as I'm given them. Not so. I'll just forget them if I wait an hour to get started.

If I stop at a gas station to get directions and it involves more than two turns in opposite directions, I'll just reiterate the first instruction, Okay, so I'll turn left out of this driveway and go for 2 miles, right? Then I'll stop at the next gas station I come to and ask the same question. Oh sure, I could write directions down, but my handwriting is so atrocious, even I can't read it.

I also lose things. Well, sometimes I just misplace them but they generally don't turn up until after I've already replaced them. I have 7 pairs of tweezers, 30 emery boards, 5 calculators and 3 hammers. I would only have 1 of each if I could have remembered where I put the first one.

I have three doors into my house: the front door, the side door and the door off the deck. My nightime ritual involves making sure that each door is locked and deadbolted. I check the windows and turn the backyard light on to make sure there isn't anyone lurking anywhere.

This morning, I woke up and was going to take Bernie for her walk. And I looked everywhere for my keys. I usually throw them somewhere when I walk in the door. They weren't on the hall table or the bookcase or the mantel or the dining room table or God forbid, the key hook.

This would be improper use of a security system.

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