Why is it that…Part 2
Last week I thoughtfully worked on this column. Alas, somehow, when sending my thoughts, they were interspersed into outer space, similar to when people teleported from one place to another on “Star Trek.” The words left here fine, but did not end up in their entirety where they belonged. Why is it that when it is most important for technology to work, it makes a fool out of us?
Speaking of technology, my phone is my lifeline…most of the time. It doesn’t get used at work, so if it is forgotten at home, it is not a catastrophe, unless, of course, it is. The last time my phone remained on the charger instead of joining the essentials in my purse, I had no GPS and got lost on my way to an important appointment in Northern Rhode Island, a place foreign to us Middle Rhode Islanders. When I asked for directions, the foreigners spoke Rhode Islandese. “Turn right where the old mill used to be, take a left where the ice cream stand was before it burned down, and then at the third, big oak tree, turn down the driveway.” Of course my car drove round and round, never reaching its destination. Why is it that when it is so important to be at the right place at the right time, the technology isn’t available to tell us where that is?
The days of nice summer weather have been a delight, and I had splurged on a few summer dresses for work. Ah…the warmth of the sun on my skin, the sunlight making my eyes squint, a dress swishing around my legs and a bounce in my step. Except for that one day last week when the temperature was in the 60s. I wore my favorite dress that day, which would have been fine except the dress was sleeveless and my body shivered all day. Why is it that we are tricked into wearing summer clothes when the temperature is more of autumn?
Speaking of summer, sandals on my feet are freeing. My toes wiggle in delight as the fresh air tickles them, nail polish gleaming in the sunlight. No need for pesky, old socks. But when I do the laundry, the basket is surprisingly full of socks. When the cooler weather comes and closed toe shoes are the apparel of the day, I can search and search but cannot find two socks to match. I am relegated to wear one plain gray one and one with poodles that is also gray, so they kind of match. Why is it that when you wear sandals, there are socks a-plenty, but when you wear regular shoes, there are no matching socks to be found?
My class reunion is coming up and my classmates are fondly remembered. For this joyous reminiscent occasion, I will be chatting to catch up on who is still married, who has slimmed down to an incredible weight, (as compared to those of us who have put on some poundage,) and who is still alive. Everyone will be wearing nametags, which cannot be viewed without my glasses, (which of course won’t be worn because they make me look older.) However, when we pleasantly bump into Dave Revens, why is it that when I go to introduce him to Hubby, his name escapes me?
Why is it that when I start to think of “why is it that…” topics, my brain is overloaded with examples which will have to be shared next week?