Mingled Mental Misfires

Miscellaneous contemplations while waiting for someone at my doctor’s office to answer the phone:

~Being pleasant to customers for eight consecutive hours is positively exhausting. My boss needs to start paying a good mood differential.  

~My new slogan for Jackman, Maine: “The 1970s with Spotty Cell Service.”

~Speaking of Jackman: I can’t drive there without finding myself stuck at the railroad crossing. Seriously; happens every time.

~Actual line from my forthcoming memoir: “We had guests coming for dinner, so mom hung a new fly tape.”

~A police officer yesterday asked why I always roll down my windows and turn up my stereo when I pass him. “So you won’t hear my studded snow tires,” I said. “And frankly, it appears to be working.”

~Text exchange between me and a woman I met through Match.com:

     Her: “How is it possible that your still single?”

     Me: “You’re.”

~Siri’s great, but she’s no grammarian.

~From a recent conversation with an old friend:

     Him: “My twelve-year old has been playing bagpipes for years. He’s a really good bagpiper.”

     Me: “How can you tell?

~Have you ever seen a car alarm serve its intended purpose? Me neither.

~By my way of thinking, if your truck weighs more while leaving the transfer station than it weighed when you arrived, the town owes you money.

~Apparently, pleated pants fell out of style several decades ago and no one told me. Little wonder I can’t get a date.

~Notice that you never read about non-essential oils? It’s like no one even cares.

~I apologize to anyone I may have woken the other night with my shotgun blast, but I don’t allow spiders in the house—dock spiders especially. On a related note: please reach out if you know someone who’s exceptionally handy with drywall repair.

~I start dancing at weddings and people ask if I played the gopher on Caddyshack.

~Public Service Announcement: every street in Portland has an equal and opposite street in South Portland. Double-check your GPS. You’re welcome.

~Yelling at your server because your food is late is like punching your mailman for not having your tax refund.

~Whenever one of my Applebee’s customers asked for a recommendation, I directed them to Olive Garden.

~Someone told me that smiling requires fewer muscles than frowning. “I know,” I said, “but I really need the exercise.”

~Is it just me, or does every Human Resources Director hold a Masters in creating goofy acronyms?

~My mother informed me that she wants to live to 100. “Not me, “ I replied, “I want to die while I still look good.”

     “Hate to break it to ya,” she said, “but that ship has sailed.”

~ I’ve never been a fan of online meetings, as I always find the video and sound quality seriously lacking. For the last three weeks, however, I’ve participated in an online creative writing group via Zoom. I've never met any of the other participants and likely wouldn’t recognize them if I ran them over with a golf cart. But when, at the beginning of Thursday night’s meeting, a twenty-something woman explained that she’d had a hard week because her dad’s health had suddenly deteriorated, my heart broke. She talked of the challenge of putting one foot in front of the other, of forcing herself to go to work every day, of her constant struggle to not break down in front of co-workers and customers. I had tears in my eyes just listening to her. Feeling the need to offer some sort of condolence, I said, “He’s surely proud of you and all that you’ve become.”

     In unison, each of the nine other people on my computer screen flashed a quizzical look, including Sarah, the grieving young woman. After a most awkward silence, she finally said, “Uh…thanks.”

     Sarah went on say that she and her family remain hopeful because they have an absolutely awesome veterinarian. That's when I realized that she'd been talking about her "cat" and not her "dad."

      Glad I didn’t ask if he’d signed a DNR.