Rambling along
nce in awhile, the brain just refuses to go.
Or maybe that's not accurate. Maybe the brain doesn't refuse to go, but it refuses to go in the expected direction. "Wandering" would be a kind way to put it.
When that happens, trying to steer your gray matter into serious, ponderable subjects seems like a hopeless task. Hence, this week's column — call it "Ramblings from Jennifer's Strange Mind," or "How to write columns like Peabody's Susan Marshall."
Just kidding, Susan. You know I love everything you write.
***
For a control freak, getting a flat tire can be the ultimate crisis.
You've got your plans laid out: This place at 3, the next place at 3:30, etc. Every minute, every second carefully scheduled.
Then you hear the strange noise from the rear of the car, and before you look you know it's true. Your tire is flat.
So now you've got to either get all dirty and change the tire to the spare or call someone for help. In either case, your schedule is shot.
That was my scenario last week in Goessel.
It's even worse when you're a girl. I admit it — I know very little about changing a tire. So I make a phone call to someone overworked (our production manager Melvin Honeyfield), and he graciously agrees to drive nearly 30 miles to bail me out.
As I watch him finish up the tire, I think to myself, Yeah — I can do that. I can replace a spare. It's not that hard. I'm no wimpy girl; I'm an independent woman.
But the question is this: Why wasn't I saying that an hour ago?
***
Ever washed a cat?
If not, consider yourself truly blessed.
There's a reason God gave cats the ability to clean themselves: They hate water.
But lucky me, I got to give my 19-pound orange tabby a bath on Saturday. And my muscles are still sore from bending over the bathtub, trying to simultaneously hold on to the arm of my howling guy while rinsing him and, of course, myself in the process.
I felt bad for him. I didn't want to get him all lathered up, rinse him down, and destroy my bathroom in the process.
But if my cat hates baths so much, why does he have this bizarre fascination with the faucet on the bathroom sink?
— JENNIFER WILSON
