| Seriously? |
For the
record, I’ve always been a man who knew his limits. Oh yes, that information
was relayed from my addled brain and delivered to the muscles activating and utilizing
the mouth and vocal chords. Sadly, the
mouth and vocal chords have been in a nasty contract dispute with my brain so
refused to obey the orders.
Unfortunately my brain, mouth and vocal chords all have the same agent
so it appears as though nothing will be done to alleviate the situation.
This
condition is nothing new to me. I
remember years back when my mother had a little Chihuahua that had gotten lost
out in the snow, late at night, during a snowstorm. I, as a college student living at home, was
in my natural habitat and most suitable position…fast asleep in bed. Well, my
mother woke me up and, believing the little pooch was frozen to death out in
the vast wilderness of the suburban neighborhood in which we lived, told me to
go out and bring his little poochcicle body home. Here’s where my limits come into play.
| Go ahead, somebody move! |
While not
legally blind, I do require glasses in order to see anything with any
detail. To attempt to clarify that
statement, my vision is not entirely unlike that of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Like
Rexy, my vision is based almost entirely on movement. So there I am, outside in the middle of the
night, without a coat (the limitation there was that as a college student I was
dumber than hell), and without my glasses (having left them in my bedroom and
was entirely too lazy to go get them), outside during a snowstorm, looking for
an ex-Chihuahua.
Despite
the overwhelming odds, I saw the little guy. Not only was he still breathing
and prancing through the snow like a rat on Ecstasy. I called out to him and he
obediently ignored me. I took steps toward him and he started to run away
further. I must have chased that little dog up and down the street for a half
hour. Naturally, I lost him. I went traipsing through the snow trying to find
the little stinker, but to no avail.
So there
I was, returning home and rehearsing the words I would use to explain to my
mother that her cute and cuddly little fuzzball was no more. How do you do that
exactly? “Hey Mom, my it’s nice and warm in here, dog’s dead, and oh that is a
lovely piece of art on the wall.” No, that wouldn’t work…use the old army joke…’All
those with a dog that’s alive and well take one step forward…stay there, Mom.”
No, that wouldn’t work either.
I walk
into the house, looking dejected and defeated (a look that I have mastered
without any acting effort throughout the years). There is Mom, in her comfy
chair, holding the dog that had apparently returned not five minutes after I
left to go look for him. It was then
that I looked at the dog squarely in the face. He smiled…no, honestly, I didn’t
think a dog could do that and not appear menacing, but yes, the damn thing
smiled at me. I’m quite sure if he had had a middle finger he would have
extended it in my general direction.
So, yes,
I hear you. Major plot hole in my story. What the heck was I chasing out there?
The timeline of his return does not jive with you out in the snow doing an
abominable snowman impression. Well
there is an answer. For it was not until the next day that I, replete with
glasses on, went out to get the newspaper (kids today…a newspaper was an actual
collection of paper that had writing on it that communicated news that was
already a day old…it predated anything electronic that supplied news the second
it happens) that I saw the very brown thing I had been chasing. It was sitting
near a tree and appeared to be laughing at me. Yes, it was a little brown
rabbit that I had been chasing throughout the night. And yes, it was a rascally
rabbit.
| To a blind man, they look alike! |
I can’t
watch the Cadbury chocolate Easter Eggs commercial to this day without
convulsing, almost swallowing my tongue and pissing myself…on second thought,
maybe I should get that checked out.
Anyway, the point is to know your limitations. In my case, my limitations are near
blindness, a terrible back, and a mild to moderate case of stupidity.
What are
yours?
Until next time,
Be Good or Be Good At It!
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