Do writers think differently than others? Do we simply look at the world from a skewed angle others cannot see? Do we possess some rare talent that others are not blessed with? Or are we simply crazy people with an affinity for language and the written word?
Given that we writers have heads filled with fanciful ideas, endless what-ifs, and analytical ponderings I sometimes believe my brain is simply wired differently than the average person. And no doubt today's post will only reinforce the notion we writers are one step from the straitjacket.
I never read the book or saw the movie The Perfect Storm, but I now enough about the flick starring George Clooney to know it chronicles a crew of deep sea fisherman that lost their lives when a number of factors converged on them at once creating impossible conditions.
This morning, while taking a shower I experienced my own tragic Perfect Storm.
Okay, no one lost their life so perhaps it is in bad taste for me to compare my pain with those who perished on the Andrea Gail. But as the pain receptors in my body shouted SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS I thought not, what can I do to remedy this pain and make it go away but rather, How the hell did this happen.
Long before the tear producing agony slid away like the suds around the drain, I'd already recreated the series of event that led to my embarrassing infliction.
It all started with an innocent trip to Wal-mart. Where along with groceries and other sundries, I purchased this ...
For those of you with class, and or delicate sensibilities, let me say that tainted turkey sandwich hit my intestinal track and redefined the term Turkey Trot.
Now under normal condition I might have called in sick to work and stayed really close to my home based porcelain throne, but this is December. The season of glittery gold and red Christmas cards. The month of parcels and packages mailed home to good boys and girls. The time of ultra-anal and ever-fretful Postal Supervisors. So like a good trooper I headed on to work.
But as any one who reads the newspaper knows the United States Postal Service has been struggling a wee bit in recent years. Between asinine congressional rulings, email, and internet bill paying the USPS has faced a few financial hardships. Management has cut corners. and while the toilet paper Uncle Sam used to buy was certainly long way from Charmin the crap paper they buy these days isn't worth the very thing it is designated to remove.
Given my intestinal "situation" it didn't take long before the aforementioned skid paper rubbed my delicate sensibilities raw.
Which brings me back to that shower and that AXE Shower Gel.
See that little word to the right of AXE. It reads shock. And let me tell you this was no case of false advertisement.
You see this AXE gel contained Mentholatum. I don't have a clue what Mentholatum is, or where it comes from, but I know it is good for clearing plugged sinuses or relieving sore muscles. It is not however soothing to a severally chapped butt. Quite the opposite actually. Mentholatum on raw skin will make you screech like a red-assed baboon.
And yes, I have just created an entire rambling post to tell y'all about my Perfect Storm of a inflamed butt pain. And yes, I suppose that makes me crazy. Then again you wasted a valuable portion of your day reading about it, so at least I'm not alone. So go scrawl some graffiti on the padded walls while you're hear. I love to read y'all comments.