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I woke up an hour late this morning but still made it out of the house pretty close to on time. It turns out I didn't need to rush so much, since my babysitter also overslept this morning.

Once thing I have to get used to with paying a person to watch my son in her home as opposed to dropping him off at a commercial daycare center is that instead of being greeted by a bright-eyed woman who has showered, dressed herself, fixed her hair, had breakfast and downed whatever caffeinated beverages she needs to get herself moving, is I drop my son off with a bleary eyed person still in her pajamas. I am not just sympathetic, I am jealous since that is how I, myself, would look at that time of day if I didn't have to go to work. On the weekends, sometimes it's noon or later before I bother getting dressed. Carlie's mom confessed that she sets her alarm so that she wakes up just enough to stumble to the couch to pass back out so that she wakes up when I knock. Neither she nor her daughters are early risers.

Only this morning, she forgot to stumble to the couch, so she stayed in bed. Her bedroom is in the back of the house, far from the doorbell. It must have seemed very soft and comfortable to her.

I'm not exactly opportunity, but I can knock pretty hard. )
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Today on my drive into work, I was thinking about yesterday's drive home from work. I've been depressed and exhausted the past two weeks, not to mention overwhelmed and burned out, but I saw two acts of charity on my drive home yesterday that refreshed my soul.

Of course, for something like this to have this kind of spiritual effect, it helps to have a soul that is slightly on the warped side to begin with.

Brother, can you spare a social vice or two? )
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Today on my drive into work, I was thinking about how my old friend Patty still influences my behavior, even though it's been a couple years since I last saw her. This occurred to me as I was kissing stoplights this morning – three of them – which is something I would never have thought of doing if Patty had not come into my life.

Those of you unfamiliar with the practice might wonder why and how one would kiss a stoplight. You kiss them when you enter an intersection where the light has been yellow for a few seconds already. If the light stays yellow until you are through or almost through the intersection, you kiss it to tell it thanks. If it turns red as you enter the intersection and puts you at risk for getting a traffic ticket, it does not get a kiss, because it was mean to you.

Kissing on the run )
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Today on my drive into work, I was thinking about yesterday's drive into work, all .3 miles of it that I made. It rained a little bit in the Houston area yesterday. According to the newspaper, it rained 10.71 inches in my area alone. Still, being a dedicated employee and (mostly) because I missed work on Friday because my son's daycare called to let me know he was sick (leaving work early on a Friday for a "sick child" and then wimping out on Monday for a little inclement weather makes me look like a super slacker), I decided to at least try.

How high’s the water, Mama? )
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Today on the drive into work I was thinking that sometimes I am surprised when I look in the mirror and see the face of a woman and not a rubber ducky.

I like the duck's face better. It is more a reflection of me than my real face. My real face is forgettable, invisible, average. It doesn't match what's going on in my head at all.

The duck is bright yellow; everyone notices something that bright. It matches my mind -- bright and strange and more than a little frivolous and silly.

I once saw a grave marker that had no name on it, just a date and an engraved picture of a flamingo. I am going to make it known that when I die, I want a picture of a rubber ducky engraved on my headstone. If there's no money left over to put my name on it after that, it doesn't matter. No one will remember my name anyway.

But I want them to remember my duck.
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Driving into work today, I turned off the radio so I could sing.

People should do this more often. Sing songs they know, songs they love, songs they are making up off the cuff.

Houston is full of single people stuck in automobiles all by themselves. Lone commuters with empty space surrounding us. This is because public transportation in this city sucks. It can't pick me up where I live (in the sticks), and to get to where I work, it would make me transfer over and over. So I'm stuck in my car. Today the radio music was clashing with the music in my head, so I had no choice but to turn it off.

I sang. I recited poetry. I wrote poetry that needs writing down if only I can find the time. I yelled at people in the world who have ticked me off, to practice so that if I ever get the chance to yell at them in person, my words will be perfectly honed to inflict the right amount of damage.

All in all, it was a very productive drive into work.
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Today on the drive in, ...

No. Can't think of anything.

Nevermind.

Sorry. Back to your own life. Nothing to see here.
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Today on the drive in, I noticed that all of the bus stops were empty. It appears the patrons have dried up and blown away, like leaves.

I find myself praying for a hurricane. A big, wet, juicy hurricane. Well, two of them, one in the Gulf and one in a glass. Both would help cool things down.

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