Greetings and hallucinations to all on this momentous day. Who would have thought that 3 short years ago, or thereabouts, I’d make it this far. I was sure the WordPress moderators would have tired of me by now and just kicked me off for no reason other than they wanted to. Just for fun. But, they haven’t. Yet. So, I will continue until I’ve used up all the nouns, consonants, and adjectives, to name a few, that I can. Even if they don’t always make sense.
I have nothing special planned for this entry so don’t expect much. It will be the normal drivel that pops into my head when I touch my … when I touch my keyboard. Something just takes over. I’m sure all of you have had this same experience at some time or other … no thought involved, just type away and see what happens.
First, Diane is on Day 3 of an IBS attack and finds peace only in resting. I totally understand and let her be. Yesterday we talked about how awful IBS can be and I asked, “well, would you rather be sick at home, or in paradise?” She smiled and said, “paradise, of course.” So here we are. The upside is that we aren’t spending very much on food. At the moment I’m having crackers, Tillamook cheese, and water. I love that stuff, so it’s not tough. She will rally, I know, if neither of us push it.
Then we’ll go see the whales.
While flitting away the time I got on my Facebook account and did something I’ve wanted to do for a while now … go through Facebook’s list of suggested friends. I was amazed at how many there were who had crossed the ‘friend boundary’ by being friends with someone I was friends with. Merrily I clicked along, sending friend request after friend request to those who either had names I actually recognized, or those with whom Diane was already a friend. This took a lot of time and, as I got toward what I thought was the bottom of the list, the names became more and more obscure. You know, like you think you should know them but you aren’t quite sure, and some of the mutual friends aren’t familiar and you couldn’t remember ever friending them? Like that.
Throughout my journey, on that list, I kept seeing suggestions for friends who appeared to not have any friends at all. At least not mutual friends. They just stood sadly alone with no names listed in the adjacent column, and it began to concern me. In order to assuage this empathetic attack on my conscience, I decided to send friend requests to them, too.
At first I sent to them all but the list seemed to be never-ending so I switched to every other one. Still, it went on and on. Then to every third one until, finally, I apparently clicked on the wrong thing, or the Facebook ‘People’ noticed what was going on, and I was summarily dumped out to my home page.
Using that as an indicator that it was time to stop what I was doing, I did that. Now I’m here. But I’m still thinking about all those poor people who don’t appear to have friends. And, I wonder how their names wound up on that list. I suspect I’ll find out.
So, if you are reading this on my Facebook page, and don’t know me, it’s OK. We’re friends. Honest. You can trust me. Ask anyone.
Thinking about getting that ‘prompt’ to quit brings to mind how many events in my life are dictated by similar ‘prompts’. Like, I need a screw, or a bolt, so I go to my huge stash of screws and bolts to look for just the right one. Usually, I’m looking for an even number, like 2 or 4, but sometimes I only need one. It has to match one I already have, though. Normally I can’t find one just like the one I have, so I start digging around looking for matching screws or bolts. The rule is that the first group of 4 I find are the ones I’m supposed to use, and it works out surprisingly well. Sometimes I’ll find 3, the 4th one is illusive, so I’ll start another matching group, taking the first to make the cut.
On the rare occasions that I only need one, I’ll find what I think is the one I need then it magically falls from my hand disappearing either back into the screw/bolt box, or onto the shop floor. I take that as an indicator that I had the wrong one and go back to the box and, usually, quickly find a replacement. It’s pretty amazing.
Getting a parking place works the same way. If someone beats me to the spot I was looking at it means I wasn’t supposed to park there for some reason. I just get another one. Simple. A lot less stressful than jumping up and down in anger because that ‘jerk’ took ‘my’ spot. Karma, in response, usually kicks in and causes at least one of the cars they parked between to be too close, allowing the owner to rightfully slam their door into the parking thief because it’s the only way they can get into theirs. Ya know? It all works out.
I’m kinda looking at Diane’s situation in the same manner. If we were home and she had an attack like this, she’d be up and about feeling that it was necessary for her to be doing ‘something.’ Here, she can rest and get over it. Her concern, of course, is that I’m not having any fun. Well, I’ve done all this before, a couple of times, and I don’t feel cheated in even a small way. My concerns are with her.
I know … it makes me sound like a saint of some kind, right? Saint Jerrie just doesn’t have a ring of truth in it, however, so I’ll just stick with GMM. That’s a Good Married Man, as opposed to a BMM. Some BMMs are rightfully associated with a BBM, or Bad (pick a word) Movement.
I hear Diane navigating so it’s time to terminate this and see how things are going.
Hope you all have a great day.
Every day I wake up is awesome!
Oh ya! I didn’t really randomly send friend requests to all those strangers. I was very selective …