Errant Musings

Happy Monday, people.

As I type this, I am still in the warm cocoon of warmth that is Sunday…firmly choosing to stay in the land of disbelief than to acknowledge that Monday is actually right around the corner.

Oh, the fantasy world of denial….how I love it here. There’s nothing as far as the eye can see but palm trees swaying in the gentle trade winds of my imagination…the smell of the ocean is a mere hint in the air and is combined with the aroma of freshly baked bread, grilled salmon and some made-from-scratch chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Endless martinis...boundless bottles of Cloudy. Instead of hearing the hissing of wet firewood, I hear the pounding of a healthy surf…its rhythmic roar slowly lulling me into complete and utter contentment.

Margarete (the only thrice-award-winning author I’ve the privilege to know) appreciates what I’m talking about, ‘cause the above scenario was encapsulated in both our lists of “things we basically must appreciate for some length of time before we simply keel over and die”.

So, there you have it.

Meanwhile, back on planet New Yawk…I’ve got some little tidbits I’m just dying to share.

The first is the logos (or “directions for use”, as I believe the manufacturer prefers them to be referred to…as….) on my handy-dandy shredder:

Can you read it? The first one says “No Hand.”…and shows a human hand with a line through it. The next one reads “Paper Only.”…and I’ve no idea what the object(s) are with the line through them. My best guess is that they're swords, carrots and possibly a part of the male anatomy, but I may be wrong. The final one reads “No Tie.”…and this one speaks to me on so many levels, I don’t even know where to begin.

What kind of world do we live in where we are no longer given the option of shredding our very own hand? It’s MY hand…and I’ll shred it if I want to! And what if I don’t want to conform to the dress code of this particular institution? What if I willingly choose to shred my tie, rather than be seen as just another one of the boys?

Wait.

It seems that living in “the fantasy world of denial” also includes some gender confusion. I’m prescribing myself 2 years of intense therapy and a lifetime supply of Xanax. That should about cover it.

Meanwhile, for the perfect Valentine’s Day gift for that certain someone who has simply everything…may I present the Bellysonic Stereo Speaker Pouch:

…which, in my humble opinion, would be super-handy if you’ve got a bun in the oven, but could also work if you happen to have a liver, kidney or intestines who’ve lost their mojo and could use a little musical pick-me-up. Seriously...whose internal organs couldn't benefit from a few peppy tunes?

Hmmmm…and I’ve been wondering what to get my persnickety I.V…..