Where Has the Time Gone?

It seems like only yesterday that I posted the Transformers item. It turns out that that was over two months ago. I'm not sure what kept me away from this beloved blog for so long, but I think it is probably a result of my LAD, or Labor Aversion Disorder. I have been afflicted with LAD my entire life, but I didn't know it until my psychiatrist diagnosed it. Now I finally understand why I find work such a difficulty and avoid it so assiduously. My lawyer is currently looking into the possibility of suing the company I work for under the Americans with Disabilities Act. How dare they expect me to put in a full day's work in my condition.

But all that is my concern. I won't bore you with any further details. I will, however, bore you with other things, as my LAD is not bothering me so acutely today. In no particular order then, here are some thoughts that I have saved up in the last few months.

Paranormal Lights
Here in Lakewood there is a mystery so mysterious as to mysteriously out-mystery other more well-known mysteries. I am speaking of the Cove/Lake Lights, a phenomenon heretofore unexplained and even unexplored. Nobody has ever put forth a plausible explanation for this enigma, this puzzle, this oddity, anomaly, riddle, unfathomableness and other such thesaurus-based words. The mystery, for those outside of my head, is this: that there is an intersection in Lakewood, Ohio that has what seems to be a magical stoplight. This stoplight appears in all respects to be normal but for the fact that nobody has ever successfully driven past it without having to stop for the red light. No matter from what direction a car approaches this intersection, it will have to stop for a red light. Am I saying that it is constantly red and that nobody passes through this intersection? No. For, when one is stopped, he plainly can see the traffic on the cross street proceeding through a green light. And eventually, the red light will itself change into a green and the stopped car will be able to go. But the mystery is that nobody ever comes to the intersection and is able to drive through without having to stop. No matter how much or how little traffic there is on either Cove or Lake Avenues; no matter how fast or slow you approach the light; no matter what you are driving; no matter your station in life; no matter how virtuous or malignant your character; no matter how urgent or inconsequential your trip, you will be stopped by the Cove/Lake Light. I plan on forwarding this to the Hometown Tales podcast.

Flies Are Us
Last week a plague of flies was unleashed on my house. Houseflies were converging in droves in my kitchen and basement windows, which wasn't unendurable. But when the little sons of guns started landing on my TV screen, action needed to be taken. I would kill/vacuum up/shoo outside a half dozen of the little pests and no sooner breathe a sigh of relief than another group would suddenly appear to take their place. I am not sure what set off this entomological abberation. My initial reaction was to check my property for Hebrew slaves to release in case I was being punished for not letting the Chosen People go. But I couldn't find anybody. That was a relief, because I didn't relish the idea of weathering this plague and then having to face the plague of boils. I hate boils. My next hypothesis was that the flies were living in my house because something died somewhere, and they spontaneously generated in the corpse. I think, though, that if something died in my house, I would be aware of it. I know for sure that nobody got wacked in my basement since I've been here. And I don't recall seeing any dead dogs, mountain goats or carrier pigeons on the premises. I'm sure I would have noticed such. However, if the dead body were hidden from sight, I probably would not be able to find it because my sense of smell is not quite as acute as it once was. So there may have been a horrific stench of death somewhere in my house without my knowing about it. Well, anyway, the flies seem to have gotten tired of my house and are mostly gone. It's a good thing, too, because I was getting tired of brushing them off my sandwiches and stuff.

Medical Marvel
I was thinking the other day that I have no business being alive today. It's not that I've committed any capital crimes or engaged in any dangerous sports. No, I ought not be breathing because I really don't eat anything much that qualifies as food. My dietary habits are less than desirable. In fact, some might say that they are less than execrable. Now, I don't always eat poorly. I often eat very well and do so with impeccable table manners, too. But too often I am careless about what and even when I eat, and really ought to make some changes for the better. Here is an example of what some might call 'improper habits in eating:'
Tuesday breakfast -- cinnamon bun and coffee (the frosting, by the way, dripped all over my lap); lunch -- two chicken wings; dinner -- two packages of Raman noodles (artificial beef flavor).
Wednesday breakfast -- two cups of coffee and six cherry tomatoes; lunch -- two one-dollar Burger King Spicy Chick'n Crisp sandwiches (by the way, the sandwiches didn't look like the picture on the website); dinner -- we'll see, but I'm thinking along the lines of the ice cream food group.
As you can see by this data, I have rather unconventional eating habits, but I am willing to change next year.

There, Are you satisfied Laura and Monica?