Tag: Essay

Don’t Do It

Exec plops into chair and writes note to self. Don’t forget to care. Don’t forget about the little man or woman. Don’t keep it all for yourself.

Wouldn’t that be nice. Wouldn’t it be great if someone in power gave it all away. I know, it does happen, every now and then.

Wrong tests move death to life to death. Crashing waves cross plagues with Chinese amber knees and Colgate semifinals and coteries.

Life is like a restroom. You never know how much toilet paper you might have in the stall. Creases come closely to shirt tails and blue templed fish with yellow fins.

Lynx are the bathtub dreamers of the millennium stop said stop! Apples are not the kindest fruit that’s bananas. But not to your waistline.

Creatures from the American swamp open alligator jaws and find little kittens. And puppies. And people parts. You would do fine in ample tree vines.

Find fallopian tribes in coal mines and little kids on play grounds don’t try it at home. Drown Spiteville in closet canker slow pokes don’t do it.

The Usual

I’m sitting in a waiting room of an office building. I spend a good chunk of my life in waiting rooms, and in office buildings. So far, two people have asked if they could help me, and I’ve told them both that I have an appointment at 9:30. It’s 9:00 now. I hear men outside the door loading trucks. Not sure what they’re loading. There’s sounds of banging of metal. I hear a woman’s voice, and a man’s voice, inside the office. I hear men talking and laughing outside. I hear a television, perhaps an informational or instructional video.

There’s a sign on the front glass door, and another copy of the sign on the sign-in table, warning those with colds to stay away, so that staff are not exposed. The corona virus is in the news all the time, day and night with updates on new cases and quarantines. People are terrified of getting sick. I’m not sick, so I stay seated and wait for my appointment. I do use the hand sanitizer. You never know.

Days seem to fly by, but I agonize with moments where I have to wait—wait on doctors, wait on traffic lights, wait to pick up my wife from work, wait on dinner to cook, wait on bible study to start, wait on bedtime to give our pets their snacks. We have eight pets: a yellow lab, my wife’s guide dog; a brown chihuahua; a small, but chubby, orange cat; a fuzzy, but thin, orange cat; a black and white tuxedo cat; two grey cockatiels, and a green parakeet.

Our pets take up a lot of our time, attention, and energy. They keep us in a routine, and they keep us from moving around too much, as they like to lay in our laps. When one or both of our laps are occupied, we say, I need to do such and such, but so and so is in my lap. This excuse sometimes keeps us from getting up to get a snack, or it just might keep us from doing a chore, or doing a favor. The pets are the owners, we’re just staff, as they say.