Dear Battery Holders,
As you may have noticed, this letter is not printed on paper. No… you see it’s like this: I’d like to warn you in advance that what follows is something of a hot topic. Please, if you have any interest in maintaining a trove of printed documents, DO NOT be like me.
As an egg sample, I often can’t seem to find my brayne. Those of you who are getting older will appreciate this, and maybe some of the younger ones too. So there I was, wenting to the Meijer pharmacy place picking up a prescription for my Beautiful Girlfriend. And yes, wenting is a real word because I said so, and I can conjugate it thusly, in the following usages of went, wented, and wenting.
I am went to the store.
I wented to the store.
I was wenting to the store.
All good?? Yes. I think, maybe…
So I wented to the store to pick up a prescription for the Love Of My Life, and this particular prescription required the presentation of a photo ID. Well, the only photo ID I am having is a driver’s license, so I put that in the little drive up sliding door thingamabob and it disappeared into the other side of the wall where the nice lady was processing the prescription; and perhaps unbeknownst to her she may possibly have had something to do with the composition of this run-on sentence; I simply don’t know.
OK. I am pay with the credit card and then I am receive the bag with the prescription and put it on the passenger seat and I am go home now. Then I am being home and am remove the prescription from the bag. The prescription obeys the law of gravity by sitting nicely on the counter. The bag is transported to the Red Metal Bucket (RBM) which contains junk mail and other fire starting combustibles.
Well sometimes we have a problem. We heat with wood. No, that’s not the problem… the problem is that when you put “garbage paper” (junk mail, prescription bags, etc.) in the woodstove to get a fire going, you can’t really go back through it if you have a little “whoopsie.” If you try, you will have ashes in your hair and eyebrows from putting your face inside the firebox while looking around.
PLEASE: ONLY DO THAT IF THE FIRE IS OUT… BUT GUESS WHAT?? EVEN IF YOU GO BACK TO CHECK, IT’S PROBABLY TOO LATE!! The fire must be out for obvious reasons. I mean, it’s not very comfortable to walk around the house (or anywhere else) with toasted nostrils and face blister ouch. Probably better to screen the papers carefully BEFORE putting them inside the firebox; because paper burns really well.
I did not notice my boo boo for several days; when I happened to open my wallet and discover that my license was gone. My reaction to this epiphany was, “Where the HECK is my lice…. oh crap.” So yes, boys and girls, I put my driver’s license in the fiery furnace. I’m sure it did a superb job of starting the fire, and that it burned really well.
Thankfully, you can now apply for a duplicate license at a kiosk in the grocery store. Is that cool or what?? And because of my weird propensity for remembering numbers, I was able to type in my driver’s license number from memory. I paid a few bucks for the mailing fee, and the kiosk thingy spit out a temporary paper license that I stuffed into my wallet where the real license used to live. And no I did NOT go home and put it in the woodstove. Took a week or so and I got my duplicate license in the mail, at which time I was able to quit shaming myself for using my original copy to start a wood fire.
I think perhaps I’ll be more careful next time I have to present my license to the pharmacy. In the meantime, I’ll just plod along and try to locate my cerebellum and it’s accessories. I may have left it in RBM (Red Metal Bucket), or even worse it might already be in the wood furnace. As the old saying goes, “All’s well that ends well.” But sometimes I find myself wondering if my brain thing is still out in a remote corner of the galaxy somewhere.
I go now. Please have a Happy Merry and a Joyful Wonderful.
If our fire ever gets to be a problem… we could always call Mickey’s Fire Brigade. Or not…