Commodious

Recently, my long-suffering wife and I went to a big box store to shop for a new toilet lid. Don’t ask.

It took us a while in the cavernous facility to find the “Toilet Lid Specialties” aisle, and even longer to find an associate to help us find the proper size to fit our commode. (Lisa always measures such things beforehand to prevent me from making purchases that need to be returned and exchanged.)

While we waited, I perused several displays extolling the benefits of various makes and models of commodes. There were many, but one caught my eye. A glossy, colorful posterboard bragged that this particular product could “flush a bucket of golf balls.” It gave me pause. I wondered and wondered.

How did the company come up with that information? Did they flush a bb at the factory, then a golf ball? Two golf balls? Three? What kind of golf balls? Titleist? Slazenger? Po Do? Did they try other objects to exalt the power of the toilet before sticking with a bucket of golf balls? What about a bowling ball? What about a cat?

A helpful associate appeared and helped us find the right size lid and we were on our way, me wondering about what fun it would have been to field test the sucking power of the latest turbo-powered toilet. A professional career opportunity sadly missed. Oh, what might have been! Oh, what a business card gone unprinted!:  “John Carenen, Flushing Specialist – No Job Too Big.”

Vincent the Vanquisher

Just as I began to lace up my work shoes I keep on the back porch, a dead mouse fell out of the left shoe. The cat who lives outside provided a trophy. I am happy to report that my startle reflex is intact. Our younger daughter named him “Vinnie the Vagrant” because he just showed up around the time of Covid. And stayed. His other name is Vincent the Vanquisher because he kills rodents, birds, and small snakes. While he prefers to live outside, he does come in for the occasional cuddle with Lisa or to steal the food of Odie the Wonder Dog. He also makes a point of greeting visitors with purrs and requests to be picked up. Is there any creature quite as smug as a cat?

Christmas Eve Menagerie

Our Christmas Eve dinner hit a speed bump that afternoon before the gathering at 6:30. With nineteen people on their way over to our cozy cottage, we ran out of three spices - cinnamon, ginger, and oregano. I was dispatched to the local supermarket to resupply. Apparently, fifty-seven other people had the same assignment at the same time.

When I arrived at the spices aisle, it looked like a WWE free-for-all, women only. Suddenly I realized why Marco Polo was sent on his trip a few months back. To corner the market on spices! I ducked under a tall, young woman; pushed aside an elderly lady in a "Legalize Marinara" sweatshirt, and outreached a third Baby Boomer for my last item.

And split for home, where my long-suffering wife gave me a kiss for my efforts. Sometimes it's worth it to risk life and limb for a damsel in distress. I'm trying to get her to like me, and I think it's beginning to show progress..