Earlier today I was browsing Internet news articles in hopes that some sort of current event would be worth writing about, and picking lint out of my computer mouse.
I have to pick lint out of the mouse periodically because lately I have been getting sneezing fits in the morning, which causes the need for a Kleenex-like tissue, but because whoever is in charge of inventory at my house is too cheap, I have to use a roll of toilet paper, which sets off a fine powder every time I rip off another square.
As my dad has said, there’s a fine line between genius and idiot, and I’m treading on it.
Not only is that the good attention-grabbing opening statement that I’ve heard so much about in English courses, but it also relates to the fact that I recently confirmed a personal medical issue that, until now, I hadn’t really worried about.
Let me tell you about it.
Within only days of school getting out, free athletic physicals were offered to students for next year’s athletic activities.
Let me clear something up right off the bat: I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be, an athlete. When people ask me what I play, I dryly answer “the trombone,” and leave it at that.
But I got the physical anyway, because there is an off chance that next year, feeling bored from the onslaught of easy senior classes I enrolled in, I will decide to play “Athlete” and get on a sports team.
While in a vehicle full of members of farming families, I recently made the mistake of innocently asking how the wheat crop was doing.
I’m not sure how this topic came up, but it was sometime shortly after passing a truck carrying a large load of beehives encased in a netting with bees frantically clinging to the inside.
Whenever somebody walks up to me and tells me that my generation is a bunch of degenerate, lazy teenagers who are responsible for most of the hole in the ozone layer, high gas prices and the “dumbing down” of America, I spit on their shoes and say, “What?”
When I saw the dress almost four years ago from the traveling “M*A*S*H” exhibit from the Smithsonian at the Eisenhower Museum in Abilene, I never imaged that I’d get to meet the man who wore it.
