Lazy

I feel like being lazy today. Friday, a killer cold brought me to my knees and jumped on me til I was pulp, then left the next day as abruptly as it arrived. So today I decided to be lazy. It always sounds so good and restorative to rest for a day, but what really happens is, you start feeling fat, you notice that your windows and baseboards haven't been cleaned since the turn of the century, and you play Solitaire. Solitaire is pathetic! It requires less than no skill. Minus 5 in on the skill continuum.

And time drags. It starts getting dark and it feels like my self esteem is going down with the sun. I have spent all day letting my mind wander to places where no man has been before. Just women. Besides thinking I'm fat, slobby and stupid at solitaire, I start feeling guilty that I wasted a whole day. Here I am 61 years old. Realistically I have only 20 years left and I have wasted an entire day of the rest of my life! I have so much I want to do before I die! Like, well, what is it I wanted to do? That's even worse! I don't even want to do what I wanted to do before I die. Haha, that's funny. No one, not even me, cares if I did nothing today. It's unpatriotic but what the hell. I mean heck.

Twilight Zone

I went to Cafe Rio with my boss. It was easy, all I did was ask his opinion a lot, because I knew he was full of them. But believe it or not, I had never been out to lunch with a man who wasn't my husband before, and I was trying to ignore the fact that I felt awkward. I do this all the time, right? That's not the point of this story, however. It was a pleasant lunch and he dropped me off at my office, and he went to his. But a sickening feeling crept into my viscera, the "where is my purse?" feeling. The last time I remembered seeing it was at the restaurant. But I called the boss and he ran out to his car to see if it was there. No, it's not there. So I got in my car and raced over to Cafe Rio before the Cafe Rio resident purse snatcher could get my bag. It wasn't at the table, nor on the floor, nor had any of the employees seen it. Dread. The purse snatcher had gotten the best of me. And now he was going to run up my credit card, assume my identity and spend my ten dollar bill. (Did you know my name is Marijuana in Spanish?) How could I tell George? He already thinks I'm a scatter brain. I guess the best way is to just call him and tell him. Yes, just be very upfront about my weaknesses. "George, guess what happened?" "You lost your purse at Cafe Rio?" "What? How did you know?" "Well, I went to Cafe Rio for lunch, sat down at a table, and there was your purse, hanging over the chair. I have it right here. " I was relieved, but wait! Isn't this the coincidence of the dispensation? I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

Well, what really happened is only slightly less coincidental than what George told me. I left my purse dangling over the chair at Cafe Rio. A friend of George's came and sat in the same chair I had just left, and that snoop looked in my purse and exclaimed, "Hey! This is George's wife!" So he dropped my purse off at George's office on his way back to work. And that's the truth!