My wife looks in my sock draw as a gauge of my mental health. Neatly in order, fill from the left, remove from the right. (The Cadillac Eldorado of Trouble rounds the curve and barrels toward the shear edge of insanity.) My denim jeans are separated by brand and size, neatly folded and stacked. Fill from the top, remove from the bottom. Up the steps, down the steps, always end on the left foot. It goes on... the list goes on. Light switches, oh goodness. Lights should go on when the switch is up, or walk across the room to the other switch and adjust as necessary. Glasses on my shelf all turned the same direction. The penguins on my blanket always face north (Thank you, Stephen King and Annie Wilkes - Misery”). Odd numbers, prime numbers are everywhere and there is one more thing that I would like to mention, "PICTURE FRAMES.”
Have you ever read the writing on doggie poop bags? If not, there's nothing there that you wouldn't expect, but from the photograph and the first paragraph, you may have guessed where this is going. OCD. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Turn the poopie bag inside out before you put your hand in and pick up the poop. Now, all the writing on the "outside" of the poopie bags stays on the outside. You can tell a lot about a person if you can read the outside of their dog poopie bags. Go figure.
Today's musical offering is from my CD Panes. I appreciate the opportunity to share this with you. In Sanity's Arms
Friends, if you haven't met DeO’jie (pronounced D-O-G), she's a pound hound from the 'hood in Winston-Salem. We've been friends for a while.
