It should probably be stated right here and now that I am not a big fan of using an electronic pencil on my tablet in hopes that it will successfully interpret my psychotic handwriting and translate it into something coherent.
Case in point, I wrote the previous sentence several times with the aforementioned electronic pencil and tablet along with some misplaced optimism that 21st century technological advances would transcend into another lambent example of verbal brilliance; all the while scratching out errantly located words, bad interpretation, and other grammatical Kabuki. I nearly uttered a dirty word out loud and launched the tablet and pencil at great velocity away from my personal space into the crowded waiting room where I was sitting, but an outburst of “Serenity Now” prevailed.
Once the temper tantrum was forestalled and the stares from others in the waiting room dissipated, I resorted to using the virtual keyboard.
Autocorrect is now my arch nemesis, right behind mayonnaise.
Ducking technology…….
There comes a time in all of our lives when we have to periodically review the “All Pictures” selection on our personal devices and marvel at the interesting times we live in.
So much so that we have to sit there and wonder what in Tar Nation was going on in our lives that the inspiration to capture and retain pictures of items found in the health and beauty aids aisle at the grocery store merits consideration.
Furthermore, what was going on in your life when you took a picture of that thing in the jar on the counter at the clinic?
“May you always live in interesting times.”
Somebody once said that, but I don’t remember who. I wasn’t there when they said it, so I’m going on second hand information that such words were uttered once by a notable individual.
Maybe it was founding father Ben Franklin.
Maybe it was 20th century Englitch literature professor Prentiss C. Windsor.
Irregardlessly, someone said it and I’ve been pondering its validity recently.
We do live in interesting times.
We’ve got astronauts stuck in outer space.
We’ve got billionaire-laden submarines imploding under water.
We’re embroiled in an ugly election where the winner, irregardlessly of which candidate it is, will usher in a whole new error [sic] of bad things to come. That’s at least according to the other side.
Granted only one of those sides is right. The other side is possessed by a nefarious agent of evil bent on the destruction of…..
Well….
Everything.
Even still, the arrangement of recent pictures taken by yours truly serves as just another indicator that I’ve become subject to that prophetic statement uttered either by a founding father or a 20th century Englitch lit professor.
Recently, I encountered one of those interesting times when the occasion that I was just about out of mouthwash coincided with the upcoming need to replenish my supply of “moist towelettes”.
When the needs intersected, I took to the whiteboard in the kitchen with a dry erase marker and made an addition to the list of items to pick up at the grocery store on the next visit.
Already present on that list were chicken tenders, bagels, and cream cheese that can be lovingly slathered on the aforementioned bagel, but not be lovingly fed to Mag-B the SLab from the slathering knife because it will herald a whole new wave of intestinal mischief.
A few days later, the mouthwash and “moist towelettes” mysteriously appeared on the bathroom counter.
Interesting times indeed.
Just to characterize how interesting these times are, I texted a picture of the new procurements to my brother.
Mistake number one was to take a picture.
In the last year, I’ve gone through a lot of pictures which were taken in my youth. They were in various boxes and albums which belonged to Mom. Among all of those pictures, one features a 17 year old version of me sitting in the recliner with a bowl of picante sauce, a bag of Doritos, and Sunny the Golden Lab begging politely for a sample. There are absolutely no images of health and beauty aids as the singular focus, because back then we didn’t take as many pictures of stupid things that we do today.
I don’t remember whether the concoction of picante and Doritos inspired the same intestinal mischief in the Golden Lab that the cream cheese does in the Silver Lab. The difference may lie between the Silver and the Gold.
Mistake number two was to actually send the picture to someone.
For the next couple of hours I received a litany of responses suggesting what the reason was for needing mouthwash and “moist towelettes” at the same time.
I mean it’s one thing to run through the express lane down at the Piggly-Wiggly with a box of donuts, a box of donut holes, and a tube of super glue. The hapless soul who is scanning those items for you is of the understanding that you’re plugging some holes in the deliciously glazed pastries which probably shouldn’t be filled.
When you lay down an assault on the checker with a products designed for two different ends of the spectrum, it’s a different conversation.
It should be further called out that consumption of Doritos and picante, followed up forty years later by bagels lovingly slathered with cream cheese, both in the vicinity of Labradors, could require one to incorporate mouthwash and “moist towelettes” into their daily regimen of self-care.
But wait.
There’s more.
A few hours after sending that picture out and fending off some pretty crude suggestions and the promise to receive more, we took Mag-B the SLab to the vet for her semi-annual exam.
Upon arrival, we were escorted to exam room #4. It was the fourth room down the hall on the left.
Exam room #4 had something new sitting on the counter.
It was a jar of Miracle Whip in which the mayonnaise-like substance that people either hate or love had been……
Altered.
You’re wondering what the mayonnaise-like substance that people either hate or love had been altered into.
You’re also wondering if I’ll ever stop ending sentences with prepositions.
Well I’m no expert, but given that I was looking at a Miracle Whip jar in a veterinary office, I could only surmise that what was in that jar was a sculpture of a canine heart which had been subjected to heartworm.
That’s right.
Someone had taken a lump of Miracle Whip and molded it into a mechanism designed to motivate dog owners to maintain a regimen of heartworm prevention. They then took the molded lump and put it back into the jar from whence it came, and then placed it on the counter in exam room #4.
That’s the fourth room down the hall on the left.
Miracle Whip.
Not mayonnaise mind you. I’m given to understand the two are not the same. I’m also give to understand that Miracle Whip is the poor man’s Adam Schiff.
Sure that sounds weird, but I’ve got to think that if there were any condiment hell bent on trafficking in blatant falsehoods, Miracle Whip would be the first one that comes to mind.
They’re the same in my world.
Miracle Whip, mayonnaise, and Adam Schiff that is.
They all represent something possessed by a nefarious agent of evil bent on the destruction of…..
Everything.
Speaking of destruction, I think it’s time I comb through the pictures on my phone and start deleting the nonsense. I’ll start with the ones I took of those in the waiting room who stared at me after my little outburst.
