I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the brightest star in the night sky, but I’m not some dull little chunk of moon rock, either.
- I’m a pretty good speller and a darn good cook, but I’m a mediocre mathematician and a lousy housekeeper.
- I can read a set of directions and almost always follow them correctly (especially if there are pictures!), but I can dial my husband’s work number five times before I finally put the numbers in the right order.
- I can get from point A to point B and then on to point C, but I will undoubtedly make a wrong turn when trying to get from point C back to point B.
In other words, I’m not perfect–I’ve never professed to be; I’ve never aspired to be (what a tremendous waste of time and energy that would be!). I’ve learned a lot over the years, but there are still quite a few things that escape my understanding and leave me, quite frankly, bumfuzzled!
- I don’t understand why boys AND men feel the need to pee outside. In the driveway, in the back yard, off the second-story deck–when the bathroom is just a few short steps away–what IS the appeal?
- I don’t understand why, when I finally tire of being patient and polite and hang up on a telemarketer, I feel guilty for being rude.
- I don’t understand a statistic that claims that approximately 250,800 squirrels are killed by cars each year. How would ANYONE know this? And I realize this is just an estimate, but how can you even arrive at an estimate? Maybe in more affluent, urban areas there is someone whose job it is to scrape and count dead squirrels, but I’m guessing that most areas are like mine–the buzzards do the job for us, and nobody worries about counting them. So where did this number come from?
- I don’t understand why the government is paying census workers to make follow-up phone calls to households that have mailed in their census forms already. These are supposed to be random calls to go over the questions again to make sure they were answered correctly the first time. First of all, the questions weren’t that challenging, and secondly, if the calls are random, what are we hoping to accomplish?
- I don’t understand why it’s so much harder to find clothes that fit on a Monday morning.
- I don’t understand littering. I live on one of the most beautiful lakes in the country, and it’s very discouraging when tourists come in and trash the water and the banks. Even more disheartening is when the locals do it.
- I don’t understand those Cialis ads for erectile dysfunction. An inadvertant touch sparks a knowing glance and a gentle smile, which leads to the enamored couple traipsing through a field of wildflowers (or an overgrown forest) only to end up in separate bathtubs on the riverbank. Really? I think it’s safe to assume that they aren’t sitting naked in empty bathtubs, so where did the water come from? Surely it wasn’t piped in, so it must have come from the river–did they fill the tubs with buckets, and if so, wouldn’t it have been quicker to sit naked in the river? And why are they in separate tubs anyway? I just don’t get it.
- I don’t understand why, with so much evidence to the contrary, cigarette smokers still think there’s nothing wrong with polluting my air.
- I don’t understand why so many people want to make “short” jokes at my expense. I’ve lived in this body for a long, long time–do you really think you can come up with one I haven’t heard yet? (And please don’t take that as a challenge!)
- I don’t understand how any woman can squeeze on a polyester halter top with just enough material to keep her from getting arrested, look into the mirror at her sagging triple D’s hugged up against her exposed belly roll and think, “Wow–I look good!” Please understand, I know I’m no prize, but I have enough self-respect (pride/vanity/whatever you want to call it) to know that certain parts of my anatomy are better sucked in, covered up, and left to the imagination (and please God, let those imaginations be kind!)
And that’s enough about that.