If I Could Turn Back Time

Mystery Radio

You have those days from the moment you awake you know it will be an unusual event. Today is one of those days.

The sky is blue. The sun is shining. There is a soft wind blowing. Then I found out this was going to be a weird day.

As is my routine, I go into the next room, turn on the radio and the computers to have my morning look at the world. I open my V-8 spicy then notice the radio is not making a sound.

“Maybe it was the station?” you say. The radio next to my bed that plays all night to the same NPR station is still playing.

I check the volume, then switch to the CD player and back again; still no sound. I try to turn it off and it won’t turn off. This a bit freaky even for this box, so I turn to the duty at hand and will return to it later.

I go back into the bedroom, as I often do, to listen to the next show. When I get back up to make a cup of coffee and do my trolling, the radio is playing.

Spooky? Halloween is over. It was suddenly working fine and even shut down correctly.

It is going to be one of those days.

Transportation

I was thinking of all the things I could have done if I had a car. Not that I want a car, but many travels I missed without one. I was a good driver with a heavy foot, but made the decision years ago, with a bit of couching from the law, to forgo the expensive metal mobile machine for exercise that will carry me 5-miles and beyond. In childhood bands, I always had to pack my gear in someone else’s car. Appointments and events required a bus or taxi or walking. Over the years I understood my limitations and was resolved not to fall for the quick and easy.

This morning the gate was open. It is a bit breezy but normally it doesn’t just open. I went out to close it, and then saw the Amazon smile on my porch.

What use to be a trip to the mall are now a few clicks on the computer and they bring it to your doorstep.

Two wheels will get me to the Tummy Temple and back again if I have the strength and grit to perform the action of transportation.

Apology

“Sorry I’m late.” How many times have you heard that? An apology is trying to make amends for not fulfilling an agreed upon arrange. Everyday in the news someone (other than the president) is apologizing for some wrong as if it will make it right. Sorry.

Who Are You?

Halloween is a fun day. Everyone can disguise himself or herself.

At a witch’s eve party the other night, all the usual zombies and ghouls were there, along with a few new creative characters that make the guess worth the noise.

Under all the greasepaint and the ratty clothing, who are you?

Are you the one that tells the jokes or the wise one who has all the answers or the obnoxious one who is only invited because your spouse is pretty?

Everyday we wear a different costume but our brands and style do not make our personality. We create that.

Rent It

In our consumerist capitalism, we have been taught that each and everyone of use must have clothing and vehicles and appliances to show our worth and value. We all fall for the ploy.

Suddenly our lives are full of junk we seldom use that just clutters up the drawers and closets, yet we continue the commands to buy the latest and greatest and shiniest and newest and most popular.

At the library you borrow a book on your honor to bring it back and after returning it, you can check out another one. Good idea.

How many hammers do you really need to own?

Attitude

As I weave through the increasing crunch of dying leaves my mind organizes the thoughts of the day. The road is now bespeckled with twisting shadows leftover from Halloween. Several couples walking with they’re dogs and baby rollers trying out their puffy vest and sweaters. A reminder of my elevated position as I pull in and tie you my pony. After waiting for the parade of shoppers coming out (I’m old school and wait for the ladies) I notice the Med-com (or whatever it is she is selling) lady is sitting in the middle of the floor. Well, not on the floor but on her stool next to a folding table covered in pamphlets, cards and an advertising tablecloth. I ask her if she was kicked out from inside the store in her usual position at the end of the checkout zone. She responded that the people at the store were very nice to let her in here and I agreed that the attitude of the staff has escalated.

Note: I’ve seen and had talked to this woman before. She is trying to talk the ole folks to join her plan for better coverage of medical something and has to politely sit attentively as they tell her their horrid stories of old age pain and suffering. I’ve appreciated her constant presentation in an unrewarding effort.

We chit chat about the new technological gizmos going on inside but I don’t want to get in the way of her sales pitch and move on.

As is the routine, I grab one of the electronic remote controls and ping-pong around to the places I know.

First stop is at the breakfast aisle. I’ve found a package that makes pancakes without the milk and eggs and stirring and such. Add water and it will make two or three pancakes, more than enough for one person with no cleanup except to rinse out the container and put it into recycling.

So I point the magic wand to the barcode and ‘nothing’. All the lights have turned off. The remote was remote.

Understanding my dilemma and knowing my GPS, I quickly rolled to the second display of the ‘Scan it yourself, pay then get the hell out of here’ but it was empty. Back across the length of the store I went to grab another remote and try again.

After my procurement I proceeded in an orderly fashion to an available scanning station to pay my tithing. Keith, one of my ‘help is on the way’ people came up to tell the machine I was older than dirt. I normally try to make quick conversation about the crowds or the sunshine, but today Keith was unhappy. Seems he was having a tit-for-tat with one of his co-workers and wanted to lay his grievances on me. He is a funny little flamer but today I don’t need his problems. I roll back into the entrance room (where the carts are stored, when they are brought back, ie. The grievance) and revisit the nice lady at the table.

I tell her my mojo was broken after our discussion on the technology. She must be an actor because her facial expressions are priceless. Did I also tell you she is cute?

I left with a smile on my face (as she probably was saying to herself what a crappy job this is and who was that old fart bothering me).

It is all about perceived attitudes.

The Do Over

I hear that time will stand still and accurately go backwards tonight. Well technically tomorrow morning. Many of you will be snoring and drooling and having sweet dreams when 2am will turn to 1am and then to 2am again. It is the only time we get a Do Over. Will we make good use of this time out to make a difference?

Back home and doing my proper chores of feeding the critters I can relax for another day of anti-stressful enjoyment reflecting on the day’s adventures.

Still I must have some substance to continue to churn my innards and poop in the morning, so I decided on fish and chips. Pulling out the frozen packages to prepare my dinner feast I hear three beeps. I’m in the kitchen looking at the stove, the Fios connection box, the microwave and my phone. Where the hell did that come from? The refrigerator?

It is just one of those days were the unexplained is fine. I check the directions on heating up these frozen coated slabs of something resembling seafood and set the stove for 425. I walk in the other rooms looking for the weird sounds as the oven heats up. I got 25 minutes to wait so I put in the tray of orange fish sticks and look at the clock on the microwave. 4:25. Then I look at the stove. 425.

It is just one of those days in Just Another Life. Wait until 2am.