I Was Thinking About Something Else

That pretty much sums up my life nowadays. I will be doing something, walking into a room or driving, and I will go askew. Someone will inevitably ask at that same moment, "What are you doing?". Which will confuse me and I can only respond, "Yeah, well...I was thinking about something else".

(formerly A Connecticut Yankee)

Location: Connecticut, United States

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Monday, November 07, 2005

Is that dog crap on a paper plate?

I work nights, roughly four to midnight, so if I go home for dinner it's usually dark out. Tonight I went home and had some taco fixin's and decided to walk the dog after I ate.
Some background on the dog. He was six months old when we freed him from the humane society five and a half years ago. Other than peeing on the hallway floor the very first time he entered the home, he has never had an 'accident' since. We have walked him faithfully for the past five and a half years. A major part of the regimen of walking the dog is carrying a plastic bag and a couple of paper plates. Why paper plates you ask? That is because from the time he first joined us, it seemed like a clever and sanitary way to deal with the dogcrap in the first few moments of purging from his little dog body. A paper plate is easy to pop into a plastic bag for transport to a receptacle. It also gives the dog a big target to hit, even though, I think we all would agree, he really couldn't care less about hitting any targets.
So, I pack a plastic bag and two paper plates and I'm off with the dog into the night.
He's all excited because Fall has arrived and the air is crisp and dried leaves are everywhere. Dog sensory overload to be sure. We got about to the halfway point and he starts to squat and pinch a loaf. As always, I had a plate at the ready and successfully had it in place before doggie gifts started dropping. The dog finished, now stretching his legs and sighing that relief that comes from doing honest hard work. I lived through his happiness vicariously and then reached into my pocket for the plastic bag. But what plastic bag? The plastic bag I had felt in my pocket earlier was now gone! Shit! What are my options? Well, only one really. I can' t leave the plate, because everyone knows who the only person that uses paper plates is. Stuck with the only avenue open to me I pick up the plate and start to search for the bag. That would be the brown plastic supermarket bag resting in the leaves somewhere in the last three blocks...in the dark. i must discreetly traverse back to the home with hopefully no one noticing. Which of course, was never meant to be. Out of the darkness comes a neighbor.
Neighbor: Yank! How's it goin'?
Me: Not too bad. Just walkin' the dog.
Neighbor: I see that. Whatcha got there?
Me: Paper plate.
Neighbor: Is that dog crap on your paper plate?
Me: Yeah, I lost the plastic bag. I'm trying to find it now.
Neighbor: Oh, that makes sense. [unsolicited advice] Maybe you should carry two plastic bags.
Me: Shut up asshole! I already feel like a moron, walking through the neighborhood with a paper plate full of dog crap. [Then out loud I said] Thanks! You're absolutely right! Sure would've made lif a lot easier! G'night!
I found the bag two houses away from my own.

[Author's Note: The plate was folded at all times]


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