Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

Welcome back to the blog. Good to have you here again; I hope you had/have a great day today.

My days are mostly mundane, fairly straightforward, and equally routine: wake-up, think about actually getting up, decide against it, sleep another 10 minutes, get out of bed, hope we have fruity pebbles, look for fruity pebbles, find no fruity pebbles, shower, daze out for a good 5-10 minutes, get dressed, change my mind, get dressed again, grab my bag and I'm ready to go.

Once out the door, the world is my oyster. I have yet to shuck it, but it is mine, apparently. I didn't even know that the world became an oyster, and already I'm the owner. I'm not even particularly fond of seafood in general. I can't imagine why I would ever want a huge earth-sized oyster... Where would I put it? I think my hands would get clammy from holding it all day (thank you, I'll be here all week). Maybe I wouldn't have to hold it, maybe it would just latch on to me. Will my dog leave it alone? I picture our sheltie in a dead stare with it, barking until he's hoarse--no surprise there... if he barks at candles, he's sure to bark at a giant sea creature. The neighbors would complain. I would probably sell it on EBay. What if it turned on me? I would have to say that the odds of surviving as the victor in a fight against a mollusk of that magnitude are grossly non-proportional. Oysters are literally all muscle on the inside...I wouldn't stand a chance.

Until my oyster is delivered to me, I continue on in my daily habits as usual. For example, at approximately 2:15 this afternoon, I conformed to the traffic rules and let a pedestrian cross the road. This may not seem worthy of mention, until one takes into consideration the fact that she was fully clothed in pajamas. My instincts told me to wake her up: "She's sleep walking in traffic, wake her up!" I thought to myself. I came to my senses and realized she was just wearing her pajamas as an outfit, perhaps to save time in the morning. People, listen up: PJ's have yellow duckies, frogs with sunglasses, and ice-skating polar bears on them for one reason, and one reason only: So that they are not worn in the broad daylight of public. My mind started to wonder... Did she shower this morning? Was it pajama day at school? Has she no other clothes? Was she running late? Maybe they're flannel hospital scrubs? Perplexing. There is one, and only one, socially acceptable reason to adorn pajama pants (mind you always to be accompanied by a t-shirt and coat), and that is the 2:00am "Oh crap I need this before tomorrow" Wal-Mart Run. Any other reason is an utterly inadmissible faux pas.

Alas, the unobjectionable pajama hour is fast approaching. Soon I will lay in bed and look up at the stars in the sky and think to myself, 'Where the heck is the ceiling??' and drift blissfully into dreamland, for the start of another mostly mundane, fairly straightforward, and equally routine day.

Peace out,
H