If there is one way to describe me it is: ‘a strange
character’. This description was first used in 1956 when I asked the question: What
did the bald man say when he got a comb for his birthday? Then I answered my
own question: “What!!! A lousy comb?” At first Mom laughed a little then
reflected on it, mumbling something about the hospital: switching babies and her having this strange sharacter.
Every morning when I get up, I head for my chair with coffee
in hand and open up my lap top and proceed to write this blogue, sometimes the
topic is clear in my head and most of the time foggy like everything else. I
usually have left my shoes on the floor next to my chair where they sit from
the night before.
As I open my electronic lap warmer, and stare at the blank
page, sometimes I can’t get started, and pause, look around, see my shoes and
put them on. Then I start to type, one sentence coming after another, in a rhythmic
flow almost. The shoes help me feel at ease.
Years ago when I worked, I kept getting this dream about me
getting up from my desk to walk the halls to a meeting, and as I walk, I check
my papers and notice I’m not wearing pants! I think this rises from a deep
seeded need to wear pants in public. As I walk I pass these offices with people
in them, feeling weird and embarrassed that someone will notice, then entering
the meeting I walk to my accustomed seat and I wake up from the dream and sure
enough, I’m not wearing pants!
If I go out and have slippers on, I can’t go out, won’t
drive in sandals and the only place I wear shorts is a store or around the
house. Strange I know.
Well, time for another cup of coffee, I think I’ll put on my
shoes and get one.
Yes, I wearing pants.
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