| Humor Non-Fiction posted September 24, 2018 |
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an adventure of the mind
Going Walkabout
by pome lover
Have you ever wondered if your mind decided, without consulting you, that it was tired of its sensible existence and gone walkabout, as the Aussies say—an expression I’ve become enamored with—and left you totally on your own?
Or, maybe there are carnivorous gremlins happily chewing away on my brain. Sometimes I do things no thinking person would do unless they were on their way to the loony bin.
Today I actually stood in front of my TV and not once but twice punched numbers on my cordless phone and got frustrated because the channel wouldn’t change. Now, how pitiful is that?
Unfortunately, I think the gremlins have been at it for quite some time. My sister delights in telling the story about when I was newly married and was wearing rubber gloves to wash dishes and got water inside them. In the first place why, for Pete’s sake, was I wearing rubber gloves? Had someone told me that in my new foray into domestication, I was supposed to protect my lily-white hands from that nasty old dish water? You’re probably thinking, among other things, didn’t we have a dishwasher? Well, actually, no, we didn’t. We were newly-weds and my husband was in med school and we didn’t have two dimes (nickels?) to rub together.
Anyway, the rubber gloves were wet inside. And…I’m now convinced my brain was definitely on walkabout—I very brilliantly (I thought at the time) stuffed paper towels into them, individual fingers and all. Took quite a while to do it, too. Naturally my husband came home from making life-saving decisions all day and said, “Why didn’t you just turn them inside out?” Right. Why didn’t I???
Confessions of stupidity are embarrassing. Writers of sitcoms usually use husbands in that capacity. The wife is supposed to be the smarty pants.
However, please don’t think I’m a total screw-up. I do pretty well on my own, and have, for twenty-two years, so an occasional (really dumb) thing is rather a relief (self-deception at its best). And now that I look back on this morning and the phone-remote thing, it’s pretty funny. You have to think that way when you get older and do idiotic things—it’s better than reserving a spot in the loony bin, “nest-ce pas?”
Have you ever wondered if your mind decided, without consulting you, that it was tired of its sensible existence and gone walkabout, as the Aussies say—an expression I’ve become enamored with—and left you totally on your own?
Or, maybe there are carnivorous gremlins happily chewing away on my brain. Sometimes I do things no thinking person would do unless they were on their way to the loony bin.
Today I actually stood in front of my TV and not once but twice punched numbers on my cordless phone and got frustrated because the channel wouldn’t change. Now, how pitiful is that?
Unfortunately, I think the gremlins have been at it for quite some time. My sister delights in telling the story about when I was newly married and was wearing rubber gloves to wash dishes and got water inside them. In the first place why, for Pete’s sake, was I wearing rubber gloves? Had someone told me that in my new foray into domestication, I was supposed to protect my lily-white hands from that nasty old dish water? You’re probably thinking, among other things, didn’t we have a dishwasher? Well, actually, no, we didn’t. We were newly-weds and my husband was in med school and we didn’t have two dimes (nickels?) to rub together.
Anyway, the rubber gloves were wet inside. And…I’m now convinced my brain was definitely on walkabout—I very brilliantly (I thought at the time) stuffed paper towels into them, individual fingers and all. Took quite a while to do it, too. Naturally my husband came home from making life-saving decisions all day and said, “Why didn’t you just turn them inside out?” Right. Why didn’t I???
Confessions of stupidity are embarrassing. Writers of sitcoms usually use husbands in that capacity. The wife is supposed to be the smarty pants.
However, please don’t think I’m a total screw-up. I do pretty well on my own, and have, for twenty-two years, so an occasional (really dumb) thing is rather a relief (self-deception at its best). And now that I look back on this morning and the phone-remote thing, it’s pretty funny. You have to think that way when you get older and do idiotic things—it’s better than reserving a spot in the loony bin, “nest-ce pas?”
you have to laugh when you do things like this
Pays
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