The Lost Purse

Posted on October 24, 2023 by Sheila Moss

Have you ever done something so dumb, so stupid, so unlike you that you can’t believe you did it? But you did and there is nothing you can do now except try to do better the next time.

It’s a long story, but it started like this:

Last evening I was late getting home and had no dinner started or even in mind.

“Want to eat out?” asked Honey.

“Sure.” Who wouldn’t?

There was the usual discussion on where to go that ended up at Cracker Barrel because we couldn’t think of another place in particular and it is our “fall back place.”

We were seated right away, no lines in the middle of the week.

When the food arrived, I looked across the table at Honey’s plate and saw sausage. I knew something was wrong as he will not touch pork with a ten foot pole. My food was wrong too. We eventually figured out that the server brought the food to the wrong table.

That should have been my clue on the sort of evening it was going to be, but we eventually got the right food and ate without further ado, at least until we left.

I had hung my purse and jacket on the back of my chair and had my cell phone lying on the table.

Honey wanted to look at candy before we left as you can get old-fashioned candy there that you can’t get anywhere else. I gathered up my things quickly with my mind elsewhere.

I was holding a bag of candy when we left and didn’t notice that I had forgotten to pick up my purse.

We got in the car and it was not until we were on the interstate that I noticed it was missing. I searched the floorboard. I turned on the light in the car and looked again, hoping I was wrong. But I knew exactly where it was – hanging on the back of the chair at Cracker Barrel.

“We can’t turn around until the next exit,” said Honey. “How could you forget your purse? Didn’t you realize you were not carrying it?”

Obviously not.

And as if I didn’t feel bad enough already, “Why didn’t you watch what you were doing?”

I snapped.

“Because I am an idiot.” Geez!

If you have ever lost your purse or wallet you know the sinking feeling when you realize it is missing. I mentally reviewed what was in it: credit cards that I would have to report lost, my driver’s license and insurance cards that would be a pain to replace, car keys, house key. My God! A thief could get my address off my license and would have a key to rob my house.

I was panicked, forgetting we have a security system at home. I seldom carry much money so that would not be a consequence, at least. Still, the thought of all the aggravation was sobering.

When we finally arrived back, I went in and told the hostess I had left my purse. Apparently either a customer or wait staff found it and turned it in.

The “what ifs” were endless: What if an unscrupulous customer had picked it up, and walked out? What if I had not noticed it missing? What if we were traveling and were hundreds of miles down the road before I missed it? What if I had a lot of cash inside?

Thanks to the good folks at Cracker Barrel, it was found and returned.

So, I was lucky. I clutched my purse tightly. It was my expensive leather designer purse too, on top of everything else.

I am still shaking over the near disaster. I plan to copy all my documents and take anything I don’t absolutely need to carry out of my purse.

As for my carelessness, forgetfulness, or whatever you call it, I don’t know what to do about that.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Fashion, Humor | Tagged , , , , , | 11 Comments

Chasing the Sandman

Posted on October 11, 2023 by Sheila Moss

“Why, why,” I ask. “Why can’t I sleep like any normal person?” It’s natural. I’m tired. I need some good old restful sleep. Like 40 million other people, I have been cursed with insomnia. I either cannot go to sleep or I wake up after a few hours and cannot go back to sleep.

I don’t get it. I avoid caffeine drinks. I avoid napping during the day regardless of how tired I am. I do all the things the books say to do. Still, as soon as I hit the mattress, my eyelids go “ding” and spring open like a Jack-in-the-box. It isn’t for lack of trying, but the harder I try, the tenser I become.

I am cold. I put on a pair of socks and throw another blanket on the bed. I plug in a heating pad hoping the warmth will make me drowsy. “Relax,” I tell myself. “Just relax,” as if that is going to help. I am keeping myself awake by trying to relax.

I turn on the TV. Maybe if I just forget about sleeping, I will fall asleep. Hours later I am still watching TV. Have you ever tried to watch TV all night? There isn’t much on TV after 3 PM, at least not in our market. Crime, murder, and mayhem is all that is on.

I watch a lot of crime shows. I know all about using DNA, luminal and cadaver dogs to solve crimes. I know about bodies buried in the back yard, fed to alligators, dumped in rivers, and scattered human bones found by dogs. TV is not very helpful for sleep.

I toss and turn. I feel cold. My bladder calls out to me and I must get up. I am going back to bed and going to sleep. I am determined. But sleep still doesn’t come. What is that lump in the bed? Didn’t we just buy an expensive new mattress? Why do I think I feel a lump? I turn my pillow over. I try two pillows.

I ache all over. My neck hurts. I throw my pillow on the floor. I turn on my side. My knees hurt. I lay on my back. My leg goes to sleep. My shoulder hurts. I dig through the nightstand drawer and find the numbing cream which I put on my shoulder and knees. I am too hot. I throw off the extra blanket.

My allergies kick in and my nose is stuffy. I use nose spray and wait for it to open my sinuses. My back itches where I can’t scratch. I check the clock. “If I go to sleep now, I can still get four hours of sleep.” I try to meditate. I pray, please let me go to sleep. Maybe if I get up for a while and drink something warm, I can sleep. No use. I am too tired and sleepy to get up.

“Take melatonin.” friends suggest. I tried it and it seemed to help — until it didn’t. “Drink a glass of wine before bed.” I’m afraid alcohol with interact with my other meds, and I have enough problems without becoming an alcoholic.

“Have you tried sleeping pills?” “Yes,” the drugstores are full of sleep aids and doctors are usually happy to prescribe something as easy as making you sleep. I sleep alright if the pill is strong enough, but I am groggy all day the next day. Not a desirable solution or something I want to resort to on a permanent basis.

I used to have no problem with sleep. Show me a bed and I was asleep in 10 minutes. What happened? I can’t sleep for worrying about not sleeping. I turn off the TV and shut my eyes tightly. “If I go to sleep right now, maybe I can still get a few hours of sleep tonight.”

“Why, why, I ask, why can’t I sleep like any normal person?”

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Health, Humor, Rants | Tagged , , , , , , | 7 Comments

War of the Hoses

Posted on October 4, 2023 by Sheila Moss

Last year I decided I was tired of my old garden hose that leaked and had been repaired several times.  I went to the hardware store and bought a fancy new hose, 100 feet long and heavy duty. I also got a new nozzle, the metal kind that does not break all the time and squirt water in your face.

I was in hose heaven for a while. I could water my flowers, clean the patio and wash the fallen crabapples off the driveway. The hose was so heavy it didn’t get kinks in it. It was a beautiful hose, just what I needed – until today.

I was working on my “to do” list this week. I was going to wash the windows outside today. I can’t remember the last time they were done. I’m getting too arthritic to climb a ladder, but I thought I could at least wash them with a garden hose, even if it left a few water spots.  I got an early start as the weather had been incredibly hot and humid and I wanted to finish before the heat of the day.

The idea I had was to unscrew the nozzle on the hose that I use in back of the house and put it on another shorter hose that I use in the front yard. Good idea, except I could not get the nozzle off no matter how hard I twisted or what I called it. Well, I would try the other end, the one fastened to the faucet. It was my lucky day; it unscrewed easily. So, I will simply move the entire hose to the front and use it instead, I thought. No problem.

But the hose would not cooperate. It apparently had been laying around in the grass longer than I thought as grass runners had grown over the top of it. I finally managed to get it untangled from the grass and started dragging it toward the front of the house. There was no way I could carry it. It was way too heavy.

As I dragged it along, it managed to grab onto every obstacle along the way. It knocked over the trash can. It tied itself into a knot. It wrapped itself around a bush. I had emptied the water to make it lighter, but that didn’t seem to help. That hose felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds.

I finally made it to the front but my back was almost broken. After I untangled the hose from the lilies it had latched onto, I tried to screw it on the faucet in the front yard. As usually, it would not cooperate. It went on sideways; it wouldn’t tighten; it popped loose. Eventually, though, I managed to get it on enough that it only leaked a little.

Sweat was running into my eyes and burning. It was dripping off the end of my nose. I will not be defeated by a stupid hose, I thought. With sheer grit and determination, I managed to clean the windows and finish my chore.

I was so tired I could not drag it back. It was left on the sidewalk in front of my house. I would cut it into shreds, but I guess I was too exhausted for revenge. I was so worn out that I went inside and took a nap — dirt, sweat and all. When I woke up, I took a shower, washed my hair and spent the rest of the day recovering from the hose ordeal.

I am not anxious to talk about my day.  Guess I can mark “wash the windows” off my list now. After this experience, the windows may never be cleaned again.  

I will keep the drapes closed so I can’t see them and it will not matter. 

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Home, Humor, Plants/Gardening | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments

Greetings from the Hotel Management

Posted on September 27, 2023 by Sheila Moss

This is a piece I wrote about a Writer’s Workshop I attended. While the conference itself was enjoyable, I was most impressed by observing the antics of conference attendees at the hotel. If you have ever been to a large convention, you may have noticed some of the silliness that goes on at these events when a bunch of people are away from home and let their hair down.

We appreciate the business you gave us with your recent Writers’ Workshop; however, there are still a few unfinished items regarding your stay that need to be attended to:

We would like to request that all the guests who took our towels and linens home please return them. While the hotel expects you to steal the leftover soap and shampoo, taking towels to wrap souvenirs while traveling is a bit too much. Individual guests will also be contacted by the hotel regarding the missing irons, coffee pots, hair dryers, and television sets. Please be reminded that we have your credit card numbers on file.

The hotel may be forced to bill you for the carpet cleaning required in the ballroom where you held your late night festivities Saturday. While we are uncertain exactly what happened in there, it was reported that hysterical laughter ensued all evening and several people left with wet pants.

We regret that the hotel was unable to provide all of our guests with late checkout on Sunday because you stayed up too late, drank too much, and overslept. We received many complaints from our other guests regarding loud late night partying. You may be interested to know that our conference planners have been fired for their part in instigating your overnight pajama party.

A number of lost items were found in the hotel ballroom Sunday morning. Among the items were several empty wine glasses, a cell phone, two autographed books, a large blue plastic bird, and three pink bunny slippers. You may claim missing items by contacting lost and found at the front desk. The hotel staff does not wish to comment further on this.

Thanks to your group, we have lost some of our most valuable employees. One of our waiters became a stand-up comedian after catching the attendee comedy show Saturday night. He handed in his resignation to the hotel and has gone to California to get into show biz.

The bartender has been given a leave of absence to recover from exhaustion from pouring so many drinks. Fortunately, the hotel was able to replace her on short notice by giving the job to a starving writer who was willing to work for the experience and promotion.

May we take the liberty of commenting that the hotel takes pride in our excellent guest services and does not find tasteless jokes about our city funny. We are innkeepers, not humorists, and cannot be expected to laugh at your idea of a funny joke. Furthermore, a lot of tourists come here, for your information — some of them on purpose. We hope that tourism at the hotel will not be affected by any negative publicity you bring us.

That pretty much takes care of the major unfinished business. We realize that you have a choice and we would like to thank you for choosing our hotel. We would be remiss if we failed to inform you that we have generously opted not to put your group on the hotel’s “black list” at this time. After all, it was a writers’ conference and the hotel is willing to tolerate some friskiness.

Thank goodness it will be several years before you have another one of these conferences, and we will have time to repair the damage. We will be happy to recommend a competitor next time if the hotel happens to unfortunately be booked up for the entire spring and summer and unable to accommodate you.

Sincerely yours,

The Hotel Management

Copyright 2014 – 2023 Sheila Moss
Edited

DISCLAIMER: This is satirical humor and the opinions expressed are those of the author and not those of any actual hotel.

Posted in Humor, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Dem Crazy Bones

Posted on September 3, 2023 by Sheila Moss

You know when your doctor refers you to an orthopedic surgeon it is only for one thing. I must have been mentally blocking out the word.

I put it off as long as I could but my arm and neck were hurting, and so I finally relented and made the appointment.  “You need to see an arm specialist,” said the appointment clerk, who apparently had a medical degree. “This doctor only does necks and backs.”

“I think the pain is coming from my neck,” I said, and then I played my trump, “I was referred to him by my medical doctor.”

I guess she didn’t want to match her degree against that of a real doctor, so she made the appointment. When I arrived, however, it was a doctor’s assistant who saw me. After questions, x-rays, and tapping my joints with a rubber mallet, she decided that I needed an MRI before seeing the real doctor.

I call an MRI the chamber of horrors. Needless to say, I’ve been in that machine before. I went to the appointment and dutifully allowed the technician to zap me like a wiener in the microwave.

The doctor’s office didn’t call me back, which was a good excuse not to follow up. Eventually, however, pain again drove me to make an appointment. Maybe this time I would actually see a doctor. The nurse came in and pulled up my MRI on the screen of a monitor. I waited for an eternity and finally the elusive orthopedist appeared.

He went straight to the monitor with the MRI like a moth to the light. Then he proceeded to explain what was wrong, sparing no details. I felt a little dizzy as he pointed out my all too obvious bone deficiencies and explained all the screws, saws, plates and bolts it would require to fix me.

“You don’t have any choice, you have to have surgery.”  Oh, yeah, and you might have to chain me to the operating table, I thought.

“Your neck is about as bad as it can get.”

He went on and on telling me about the danger of operating so close to my spinal cord and what might happen without surgery. Even though the nurse had her back toward me as she took notes, I could see her cringe. I wonder if anyone ever fainted before or if I would be the first.

I really didn’t want to know what he was going to do it or how he was going to do it.  When I fly on an airplane, I do not want to know how high we are going to fly, what our speed will be, or what we are flying over. I just want to know that we will end up landing safely in the city printed on the ticket.

He went on to tell me that it would actually require two operations to fix me, one from the back and one from the front. I imagined him flipping me over on the operating table like a pancake. He explained how he had been in practice for over 20 years. In fact, he had written papers and taught this procedure to medical students.

“That’s good.” I said. Really, Really Good, I thought.

“The hard part will be getting your insurance to approve it.” He then told me about another patient whose insurance would not approve surgery until he finally showed up in the emergency room unable to walk. I didn’t want to hear that either.

“How long will I be in the hospital?” I asked.

“Three days.”

He is going to cut off my head and reattach it and I will be in the hospital only three days?  Well, maybe it will not be so bad after all. I just hope it gets it back on frontwards.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Health, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Beep, Beep, Ding

Posted on August 25, 2023 by Sheila Moss

Well, my old Corvette finally died and the cost of fixing it was greater than the value of the car. I should have traded it in long ago, but it was so nice to have no car payment. My Corvette days are now over. It was a lot of fun, but it is time to buy something more practical.

I really didn’t know what I wanted. Everyone I asked suggested a different brand, so that wasn’t much help. “I don’t want to go around car dealerships looking for a car,” I said.

My son interrupted, “Mom, that is not the way you buy a car now.”

“It isn’t? Well, how is it done?”

“You find a car you like online, and they bring it to you to look at.”

“Oh, really?” I feel so old.

He has a Hyundai and suggested I look at them. “They are good cars and have a great warranty.”

I thought the Elantra was cute. My son called and before long the salesman drove up in a shiny blue car. It was love at first sight. I made the enormously difficult decision of buying the first thing I saw. Soon I was signing on the dotted line and my checkbook was coughing.

Cars have really changed since I last bought one. This car has more bells and whistles than Air Force One. I am having a hard time adjusting to all the “driver aids.” I know times have changed — there are self-driving cars and robots that are almost human. Still, I think I am capable of thinking for myself and all the noises are starting to get on my nerves.

Get a little over the line in the road and it beeps. “It’s okay, car! I am changing lanes.” Stop at a red light and it dings when the car in front of you goes. “I can see! You don’t need to tell me everything!” The salesman had gone over all the “features” when he delivered the car. I didn’t pay much attention. I’ve been driving since before he was born.

The car doesn’t start with the key; it has a button to start it. One day it rained and I figured out the windshield wipers. It came with automatic lights, so the car itself took care of that.  However, one day I accidentally changed the setting and had to figure out the lights. I’m still working on opening the trunk. I drove it for a couple weeks thinking it locked itself when I got out and walked away. Then I found out you have to press a button on the handle and it beeps once to lock, twice to unlock. Thank goodness it didn’t get stolen.

If the car thinks you are cutting off the car behind you, it buzzes loudly. One day I was going to change lanes and another car was also changing. I put on my left turn signal and my car went nuts with buzzers. “Shut up! I see the dang car!”

I drove for a long time before it needed gas. I looked it up to see what kind of gas to put in it and how to open the gas tank. It uses the cheap stuff instead of the high-priced fuel my old car sucked down. I really, really like the back-up camera, but I don’t trust it and look anyhow.

There are many more unnecessary “assists” you can add, like remote entry. I wonder if I can get all these bells and beepers turned off and drive it like a normal car. Or maybe I should try to get used to the dings and beeps as they are safety features.

If you hear something beeping, dinging, and buzzing down the road, don’t panic. It’s only me trying to drive a car that is smarter than I am.

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Automotive, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 9 Comments

I Hate Mosquitoes

Posted on August 19, 2023 by Sheila Moss

I hate mosquitoes! I suppose they are not especially popular with other folks either, but some of us are a particularly delicious to the little beasties. Right now I am going crazy from a red bug bite on the back of my shoulder. How did the bug get to a spot on my shoulder that I can’t even scratch? Who knows; maybe it somehow got under my shirt or maybe it had a snorkel long enough to nail me right through the material.

Mosquitoes can quickly spoil any outside adventure. Where I live, they have never been a problem, but this year they are especially prolific. It isn’t just me that has noticed it. Other people have commented on the bountiful crop this year as well. There are supposedly ways to keep them away from your property, or at least lessen the number. You can have your grass sprayed with pesticides, but I am not a fan of broadcasting pesticides that kill useful pollinators, like bees and butterflies, along with undesirable insects.

Articles always say to avoid mosquitoes get rid of anything that provides a breeding place, even small puddles in drains or saucers under plants. I don’t have anything like that, but I can’t police the neighbors. Also, there are many natural streams in the area which could provide puddles of still water. As I told the exterminator when he suggested spraying my yard, what good will it be as mosquitoes can travel long distances to locate a meal.

Because of my susceptibility to these evil insects, I have gone to the trouble of trying to figure out what it is that makes me so tasty. I found out that they are mini vampires that want to suck my blood. They are particular, though, and like type O+ blood best of all. Need I say what my blood type is? There isn’t much you can do about your blood type. However, I read that other things attract as well, for instance sweat and floral scent. I try to avoid anything scented when I go outside, but sweat is another thing hard to avoid, especially when the weather is as hot as it has been this summer.

My only defense is insect repellant. I sprayed my legs and arms when I was working outside recently, but it didn’t keep that one crazed mosquito away. According to my information, the repellant must contain a chemical called DEET to be effective. I suppose this particular ‘skeeter did not read the research. Or perhaps that is why it attacked from behind where I had failed to spray. Next time, if there is a next time, I will spray myself from head to toe. Spraying your skin with chemicals can’t be a good thing, so I always take a shower as soon as I can. Other products offer less protection, but smell better. I used to douse myself with Avon Skin so Soft with every bath.

What makes the bites itch so much anyhow? It seems when mosquitoes are relieving you of blood, their saliva causes histamine that creates an intense allergic reaction. I read that you can use nose spray to help relieve the itch. It is anti-histamine. Get it? I have tried almost everything in desperation: oatmeal, honey, vinegar, Vick’s salve, but I mostly use an itch eraser developed especially for insect bites. It is about as no-good as anything else.  The only real protection seems to be to stay inside, especially at dusk which is mosquito dinner time.

Pesky bugs seem to be a fact of life. My friend who is an entomologist says she is often asked why mosquitoes exist, as well as other insects that are considered pests by humans. Her reply is that insects do not exist only for humans’ convenience or purpose, but have the right to existence for their own self just as we do. That requires some really deep thinking, doesn’t it? I can agree with this philosophically — but, sorry, I still hate mosquitoes.

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments

When it rains it pours

Posted on August 4, 2023 by Sheila Moss

You have probably heard the old idiom “When it rains it pours.” meaning when something bad happens, other bad things usually happen at the same time. Well, this idiom has been stalking me for several months. It can’t possibly be mere coincidence. It has to be something more: Murphy’s Law, a slump, a streak of bad luck, a curse, an evil spell, or something. I don’t really believe in such things, but you tell me after you hear all the bad news.

Where shall we start? Perhaps with my cat who had been sick for a year? I got the bad news from the vet that there was nothing else that could be done medically. Any pet owner knows how traumatic such news is after loving her for 17 years. She lasted for a while longer, but eventually passed away.

Then there was the invasion of ants in the kitchen. That’s only a minor problem, you say. Of course it is. I simply did not feel like dealing with it. A few ant hotels and a can of insect spray took care of it. I asked my son to help since he was fixing the leak under the kitchen sink anyhow.

I tried to forget my troubles to relax and watch TV, but it was not to be. Honey was coughing. Trying to be helpful, I offered some of my cough drops but leaned forward too far. My heavy rocker flipped over and I hit the floor, landing on my shoulder. That resulted in a call to 911 and trip to the ER for a broken shoulder. (Oh, yes.)

Since my arm was in a sling and I couldn’t do much, the dishwasher decided it was a perfect time to quit working. At first I was going to get it repaired, but after hearing the cost, I decided that I might as well replace it. Being in no shape to shop, I ordered one online. The dishwasher was fine, the installation not so much. They worked and worked and I prayed and prayed. Finally, they got it installed. Had I known, I would have repaired the old one regardless of the cost.

The rain had only started. There is more — much more. My son was going to move my car. I can’t remember why. I only remember that it would not start. We tried jumper cables with no luck. Finally, I called AAA to tow it. The way my luck was going, the cost to repair it was more that the car was worth. I ended up selling it.

Let me see what else. There was the broken tooth. Naturally my dentist picked that particular week to retire after 45 years. I had to find a new dentist and beg him to take me on an emergency basis. They have more broken teeth from Jolly Ranchers than anything else. If I had known they would put it in my record, I would not have told them about the candy.

Some of this stuff was my own fault, obviously. Some of it was not. Since my shoulder was broken, I hired a cleaning service to clean the house. It seemed like a great idea until one of the maids managed to drop something that broke the bathroom sink. Yes, I’m serious. The entire thing had to be taken out and replaced. Oh well, it’s not as if my nerves were not already shot anyhow.

The rain continued with a string of other unrelated things, a lost cell phone, a septic tank that backed up due to tree roots in the drainage field, and a gynecologist that retired. (There seems to be an epidemic of retirements going around.)

Well, I suppose rain can always pour harder. Just to prove it, my tooth broke again.

Copyright 2023 Sheila Moss

Posted in Humor, Rants | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The Runaway

Posted on July 12, 2023 by Sheila Moss

“They hate me around here,” said Misty the Cat. “I am going to run away from home. They will be sorry for not feeding me Fancy Feast.” It was not long after that that Misty’s human opened the door to look out. As soon as the door was cracked, the cat charged from behind and ran out into the pre-dawn darkness.

“Misty, kitty, kitty, kitty, come back.”

But Misty and had no intention of coming back. “They can kiss my cat paw. Let them try to catch me in the dark.” Miss Furball was free, outside for the first time in her life. She had always wondered what the outside world was like.

“Is that dog walking down the street? He doesn’t look very friendly. Maybe I should find a place to hide. I want to run away, not to be eaten by a vicious animal. These shrubs don’t seem very safe. A big dog could charge right through them.”

“Yikes! Another dog? I didn’t notice any dogs when I was inside looking out the window. Outside is a pretty scary place. I don’t dare cross the street to run away. A car could squash me flat. Maybe I should have thought about this run away thing a little longer.”

Misty was not wearing her collar with the little heart shaped tag. What if she got lost? No one would know where she lived.

When daylight came, the human went outside to look for her. She was probably behind the shrubs somewhere. But walking around and calling “kitty, kitty, kitty” produced no results. She is probably panicked and scared to death.

Several times during the day the human went out to look for the cat. She had never noticed before how many felines there are in the neighborhood. Cats are everywhere. She thought for sure it was Misty under the big maple tree, but when she got close, the look-alike cat darted into the neighbors’ pet door. She saw another cat across the street, but it had grey stripes and was not Misty either.

The human noticed some cats hanging around a small open space under the neighbors’ shed. Did they know something? But if the furball was under there, she was too terrified to come out. The human decided to leave the garage door cracked and maybe Misty would see it and come inside.

Night was falling and Misty had been gone the entire day. Her human was very worried. She should have taken her to the vet for one of those computer chips. Misty is a housecat. She never goes outside – at least until now. It is supposed to be 27 degrees tonight. She could freeze to death. Maybe the human could put up some lost cat posters around the neighborhood.

Misty was cold and shivering and had not had anything to eat all day. She had tried to catch a bird, but it scolded her and flew away. This pampered pussy cat preferred food that did not fight back.

The human was outside with a flashlight looking for her again in the dark, so the kitty strolled casually from her hiding place and stood at the corner of the fence where the human could see her.

“Misty!”

But before the human could catch her, she disappeared into the garage, coming home on her own terms.

“Adventure is not all it is cracked up to be,” Misty thought, as she licked herself to remove the dirt and smell of the outdoors. Misty ate supper and curled up in her happy place on the sofa for a nap. From now on she was going to stay inside and watch Animal Planet on TV.

She will have to figure out another way to get Fancy Feast.

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

I Know a Shortcut

Posted on July 1, 2023 by Sheila Moss

It has sometimes been said that men get lost because they refuse to stop and ask for directions. However, the GPS and directions from a cell phone have now made it possible for men to avoid the embarrassment of asking and made it possible to find a destination without getting lost.

Now if we could only find a gadget to get men to not take shortcuts. Regardless of where you want to go, if a man is driving, he will always know a shortcut. My dad used to drive me crazy with his shortcuts on back roads through bad areas. I never felt the small amount of gas or time saved was worth the risk. But try to convince any man that following the normal and expected route to anywhere is the best way to get there.

When I would go to visit my parents as an adult, dad always tried to help me get back home quicker by suggesting a short cut that he knew about. I learned to listen to his suggestions and then go my own way, which was usually far easier and I didn’t end up with getting lost.

I thought for a long time that this was only something my dad did, but I’ve found out that my honey is the same way. Who could believe that more than one person would be inclined to take ridiculous short cuts that take longer and are probably further in the long run.

When I want to go to the pharmacy and Morris is driving, I can be certain that the drive will involve a trip through the parking lot and behind the Publix supermarket. “Why are we going this way instead of using the road?” I ask, as if I didn’t know. “This way is shorter and I don’t have to wait for the red light,” he says, as if one red light is not better than a trip though the loading docks and trash bins of a shopping center.

In my opinion, you never save time by cutting through a parking lot. Morris is of a different opinion. He goes out of his way to take short cuts, such as cutting through the parking lot of Walmart to get to Fazoli’s instead of just staying on the road. “I don’t have to make a left turn if I go this way,” he says.

I suppose making a left turn could be considered dangerous when there is no light, but cutting through a parking lot seems more dangerous to me as there is always the possibility someone will back out while you are cutting behind them, and you have to slow down for pedestrians with shopping carts too.

I think the short cut that irritates me the most is encountered when we are taking one of the pets to the veterinarian. Instead of continuing on the main road to the light and turning right, he turns right at the school, and left and right and left again to cut through a subdivision. With the numerous stop signs and turns, it could not possibly be shorter, much less faster.

When I drive, he tries to tell me how to go. “You should turn here,” he says, pointing to some obscure side road. “You go your way when you drive, and I will go mine when I’m driving,” is my reply.

I think that all the years of absurd short cuts is starting to wear me down. Could it be that women will become as bad as men? One day I was taking my daughter to the doctor. “I know where it is,” she said. “We can use my cell phone. The GPS says to go to Exit 72B.”

“I’m not going all the way to Exit 72,” I replied. “We can go the back way taking 840 — I know a short cut.”

Copyright 2014 Sheila Moss

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