A Discombobulated Mind

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tumblr_mc26jllqLn1rhp4nco1_1280 old fashioned couple

I’m excited to visit my son and his family in Chicago. However, the holidays put me behind in my domestic chores. The clock was ticking and I could no longer stave off the inevitable.

I woke up at 5:45 a.m., turned on the coffee pot, and then relaxed while staring at the Christmas tree. I knew it’d only take a couple of hours to dismantle the tree and put away the ornaments, but there had to be a quicker solution. I grabbed a stack of construction paper, cut out thirty humongous sized colored hearts, and Scotch taped them over the Christmas ornaments. Voilà! I’d just made my first Valentine tree. Now all I had to do was plug in the lights, but as I bent over to grab the cord, I noticed a warning label—lights to be used for indoor and outdoor use only. Where else would I put them?

While contemplating the meaning of the warning label it suddenly occurred to me that if a person had a Valentine tree they needed to buy Valentine cards. This is especially true when you have thirteen grandchildren and will be in Chicago on February 14.

Thirty minutes later, with Valentine cards in hand, I noticed a sale on light bulbs. I threw two containers in a basket while pondering why eggs and light bulbs are packaged in flimsy cardboard boxes. Because there are no stupid questions I thought about asking a sales clerk if the light bulb manufactures were as careless in shipping their product as they were in the packaging, but then wondered what kind of questions do stupid people ask?

I continued down the aisle and overheard a group of adolescents complaining about their parents. By the time I reached the checkout line I had a solution for the disgruntled teenagers. They should move out of their parents’ house and get a job while they still know everything.

There was only one cashier so I waited patiently and entertained myself by reading a rag magazine. Hum . . . one of Justin Bieber’s favorite sayings is “Never say never.” Isn’t that an oxymoron?

While leaving the store I couldn’t help but notice all the people on their cell phones and I began wondering if the term “dialing a number” was technically correct since the call wasn’t made on a rotary phone. From now on I was going to say, “Do a number.”

I raced across town, but slowed down when I saw the deer crossing sign. Why are there deer crossing warnings? Everyone knows deer never cross the road. California White-tailed deer walk down the middle of the road with their heads held high.

As I approached my house, I was nearly sideswiped by a car driven by an elderly man leaving the nursing home parking lot. He rolled down his window, swore, and held up his middle finger to remind me that I was number one in his life. I glanced in my rearview mirror as he drove down the hill while questioning if I should toot my horn in response to the “Honk if you love, God” sticker on his bumper.

After stuffing the cards with candy, I headed upstairs to gather the laundry. I picked up my husband’s pants and threw them in the hamper while questioning why we call pants “a pair” of pants when it’s only one item. This made me think of glasses because if there is a blizzard in Chicago the sun will reflect off the snow and I will need “a pair” of sunglasses.

While checking to make sure the sunglass (what I now prefer to call them) were safely tucked in my purse, I noticed a handful of loose tictacs at the bottom of my clutch, but since they are a dime a dozen I threw them in the trash can while wondering what the amount is for a baker’s dozen.

The thought of a baker’s dozen made me hungry and as I made my way to the kitchen I began to realize that this day resembled the popular children’s book, “If You Give a Pig a Pancake,” by Laura Numeroff. I wondered if the author would sue me for copyright infringements if I posted this snippet on my blog, but questioned if there is no such thing as bad publicity then why do I care. . .

As I washed down my cheese and crackers with wine, I thought of a question stupid people ask and I had a solution. The next time the phone rang and woke me from an afternoon nap, I wasn’t going to answer the phone in a groggy voice and wait until the person asked, “Were you sleeping?” Nope, not me. I’m going to answer the phone and say, “I’m wide awake.”

I finished my snack, and then turned on my Valentine tree lights while wondering if that homemaker in Yorkshire, England was really raised by wild monkeys.

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About Mitzi McColley Sorensen

Mitzi McColley Sorensen grew up surrounded by the Black Hills in Hot Springs, South Dakota. Her father was a second generation funeral director. Death was as much a part of her everyday life as breathing. She attributes her quirky sense of humor, viewing life as a gift, and placing family first to her upbringing. After attending Northern State College in South Dakota, she headed west with her husband to live with her beloved grandmother who was suffering with Alzheimer’s. They stayed in California where they raised three daughters and a son. For the past twenty-eight years, Petaluma, California has been her home where rolling vineyards replaced the majestic views of Mt. Rushmore. Working her way up the ranks in a pharmacy, Mitzi learned that the customer was always right, the benefits of most drugs outweighed the possible side effects, and that her male clients mellowed with age. Mitzi befriended an individual that experienced synesthesia in her everyday life. Although the main character in THE TASTE OF ORANGE is fictional, her symptoms mirror that of her friend’s. Retired after twenty plus years, Mitzi enjoys writing novels, traveling, reading, welding, and golfing with her husband, Mark, even though she yells fore more often than scoring a par four. She keeps in shape by catching lizards and snakes with her nine grandsons and three granddaughters.

5 responses »

  1. Just wandered over from the Bloggers’ thread on Critique Circle.

    Things I like the most about this post: that middle finger reminding you that you were no. 1 in the perpetrator’s life; the bumper-sticker’s punctuation; and the incongruous, unexpected, and un-elaborated-upon welding hobby. Funny!

    Now, tell us about the welding. (You know you want to.)

  2. Exactly how my mind works, Mitzi!!! It is funnier when it is happening to someone else!! Hugs and kisses to Kai, Linds, Bailey and Will!

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