just another day in - - - did someone say paradise?


Questions I am pondering this sunny, cold (for Florida) Tuesday:

Where does dust come from and why does it accumulate so fast?

Why do drivers in grey cars on rainy, grey days not turn on their headlights?

How difficult is it to use a turn signal?

Why is it that I don't win anything in the Florida lottery and other people win millions? Are they favored by the gods and I'm dog poop? (Speaking of which, I have to go clean the backyard before my lawn guy gets here today.)

Why does my cat Jude vomit in the wee hours of the night, waking me up because my dog goes bonkers when she hears the retching?

Why did God invent fleas, mosquitoes, and fire ants?

Why do pundits say chocolate is bad for you when it is soooo sinfully good? (I'm eating some right this second, and I'm soooo happy.)

How come dogs don't purr?

Who decided that mornings are the way to go for so many jobs?

Why is my smart phone smarter than me?

Why is that when I sweep my tile floor a couple of minutes later it looks like I haven't swept it? Do floors grow kitty litter, leaves, and dirt?

Who invented working for a living, and who decided that 5 days/45 hours (including lunch) per week was the norm? Who decided that spending most of your life working away from home was the way to live a good life?

Why do some people have to play their music so damn loud?

Why do I have to die? Why can't I live forever?

Why am I so tired all the time? 

Right now it's so quiet in my house and in the neighborhood I can hear a pin drop. Why can't it be like that all the time? (I take that back - a yapping dog just started yapping.)

Why did my veterinarian leave the clinic down the street from me? I'm at a loss. I really liked her.

What do crazy dreams mean, like the one where my friend Laura is sitting in her car with her back on the steering wheel, the seat down so she could stretch out, reading a book, with the car door wide open as she cruises down the street in her four-door car, looking the wrong way, into a too-small tunnel where she is crushed dead, her mangled body mixed with the mangled steel of the car? What the hell does that mean, and why would I dream something so dreadful?

What is stopping me from running away from home, from work, from Tampa? Money? My cats and dog? My stuff? Lack of imagination, courage, energy?

Why did I get old, yet still find myself running with the memories and dreams of younger years? 

And on that note, I'm gonna go eat more chocolate because it makes me feel good and young and vibrant and just plain yeah!


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