Where am I living these days anyway?! Bloomer Town? Undy-ville?? Panty Lane???
While litterally in life I barely know where my head rests at night . . . this event threw me steadfastly into the I obviously have absolutely no clue anymore anymore anymore at all . . . the other day as I was standing at the kitchen sink washing the freshly walked dog (Irving Brown Socks) off of my hands when something odd caught my eye. [Here – I’ll set the scene for you real quick – like] It was a beautiful sunny day outside – and there were clothes hanging on the line – thinking about whatever it is that clothes think about as they dry off in the breeze . . . and then there were . . . and then there were . . .
Holy moly! Those are my unmentionables hanging out there on the line – for the entire town to see . . . 2 (two) pair of my boxers – for reasons completely unknown to me – had made the treck from the washing machine to the great/grand out-of-doors to hang in all of their should-maybe-have-just-gone-in-the-dryer glory. There may as well have been big spotlights on my mostest inner-mostestitudes . . . a billboard of my measly thoughts that I think all of the time . . . a guy in a sandwich-board advertising stuff about me that could possibly end up on a sandwich-board . . .
My world flashed in front of me for a couple of more seconds – and then I washed my hands of the whole situation and moved on to my next ridiculous thing to sweat bullets about – and then forget about almost immediately.
And if you need to reach me – I’ll be in Boxer Station in Boxer Station in Boxer Station – huzzah!