Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Love in the Third Degree.
Itâ€™s been said that I notice little details of life that other people miss. I donâ€™t think of them that way. Itâ€™s just everyday life. Itâ€™s always a joy when other people see those little details, too.
On a tree that Shannon and I walk under on just about every walk we take, last seasonâ€™s bazillion pine cones still cling to the branches, interspersed with the pollen-coated blooms of another billion pine cones of the coming season. Enough with the fertility already!
The Christian suspense novel on the store shelf doesnâ€™t make sense to me. Worst case, they all die and go to heaven. Whereâ€™s the suspense?
I let Gail talk me into playing for an hour or two at secondlife.com. Iâ€™m still intrigued by the whole virtual world of commerce that blends with the real world, not to mention the cool costumes you can manifest there. Iâ€™m still not sure it makes any difference that Iâ€™m flying around with no underwear on.
I bought organic milk, carrot juice, fresh raspberries, and chocolate, and didnâ€™t once ask myself which of the above does not belong?
A bill showed up for a credit card I last used 2 years ago and have not received a renewal card for. I cancelled the card immediately and reported the card stolen before it reached my mailbox. Thereâ€™s no way I spent $75 on sports memorabilia in a tiny New York town last week. Anything in the world but sports memorabilia.
The pear blossoms in Florida donâ€™t have as strong a scent as the ones in Georgia.
Iâ€™m glad I got to know one particular female colleague better. How else would I ever have learned about teenage boys and â€œthe goatâ€? Iâ€™m even gladder I have daughters.
Construction on John Sims Parkway is like being in a time warp. I can leave 30 minutes early and arrive at my office 10 minutes late. Consistently.
Aislinn starts her flute and sax practice precisely 15 seconds after she sees my car hit the driveway every afternoon and always looks so tuckered out from all the playing when I walk in.
One of my colleagues has become painful to be around. I know sheâ€™s having problems and thereâ€™s nothing I can do and she wonâ€™t allow anyone into her inner world to help or even to listen. Yet…she curses under her breath at least a dozen times an hour and thinks I canâ€™t hear her. It seems that everything she touches must be going wrong.
Shannon sits on the sofa in the late afternoon glow, sun-prisms dancing on the wall, fingers flying on the laptop as she works on homework, and the puppy lies at her feet, tummy to the sky.
Iâ€™m switching offices this week. The previous occupant was extremely negative and I had a running battle with her for years because she always made herself look good to the General at my expense. Iâ€™m trying to choose the appropriate incense to smudge the office space. I donâ€™t think I have anything strong enough and Iâ€™m slightly worried about setting off the smoke alarm in the high-rise I work in.
Idiot Man #4,820,976 asked me today what I might do to keep him interested. He missed the point. I have no intention of doing anything at all for him.
I had planned to pick up some â€œgel bootiesâ€ for my barefoot-loving soles after Cindy recommended them but forgot them for the second time in a row, so Iâ€™m ordering them instead. At least I didnâ€™t make the mistake of ordering â€œbooty gelâ€ instead. Whoopsie!