Playing with phone cord shows a bit of happy
Surprises surprise me.
Clouds cloud my judgment on a sunny day. Do I need sunblock or go without? That’s the question.
I need an answer to answer such a question.
See what I’m doing here? So many words can be both nouns and verbs, and putting them side by side in a sentence looks as if my fingers hiccuped.
Way back when in school, teachers took great delight in messing with our minds. Doing so, I suppose, under the guise of making us think.
None of this would have bothered me at all at this point in my life, but the other night while sitting in the dark to watch TV, I reached out to grab the telephone cord and started swinging it around. You might be more surprised that it was an actual telephone cord than the fact that reaching for and swinging said cord surprised me. Cell phones don’t have cords to swing.
I keep my land line phone on the table next to my recliner so I don’t have to get up when it rings. And yes, I know, you don’t have to get up to answer a cell phone either, but sometimes I prefer having the receiver in one hand and playing with the cord with the other hand.
Of course, with the plug-in cord trailing across the carpet, I have occasionally yanked the dang thing out of the wall with my foot. Never mind trying to picture that; it’s not worth the effort. Just know, it’s not a pretty sight.
But there I was, swinging the coiled cord without a thought in my mind until a thought jumped in and giggled. My play looked almost as funny as those trips I asked you not to picture. The action surprised me and I said aloud to myself, “Well, this surprise surprises me.”
For heaven sake, I thought next, what a silly way to say it.
When people live alone for a while, two things happen. One, you find yourself talking aloud to yourself and two, when you do get to talk to others, you talk a lot. I know I’ve told you before such was the case with my mom. That woman could talk, so when we took her anywhere, I’d have her sit in the front and I’d sleep in the back. She’d talk to Walt, keeping him awake.
At first, she thought I did that to be nice, to let her have the front seat. It wasn’t until she asked me a question, to which I snored an answer, did she catch on to the real purpose of such nicety.
Grabbing that cord the other night and swinging it around made the spot in my mind that deals with memory remember what it felt like to be carefree. Happy. With everything going on and with a big helping of poor-me-itis thrown in, it surprised me that I felt carefree.
That was the real surprise.
This just shows that no matter how tough life seems, there’s always a bit of play at hand. Go figure.
So long friends, until the next time when we’re together.
Sandy Mickelson, retired lifestyle editor of The Messenger, may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.