So, I ended up brushing my teeth afterall. I DID NOT floss or use the little pointy brush on my wisdom teeth. Why I still have wisdom teeth is a mystery. It DOES explain how Solomic and sage I am.

I was so frustrated as I prepared for sleep last night, I wasn't paying attention when I tossed my cell phone onto the bed. A few moments later when I got between the sheets, the cell-phone remained where I tossed it and through the night was tangled up in the bedding. At some point it fell off the bottom of the bed into the gap between frame and mattress. During the night I woke and after getting a half a glass of Tropical Punch Kool-Aid, started one of the new books from the library. It hooked me and I read about 100 pages before I started dozing and dropping the book onto my face. Rather than risk blindness, I put the book aside and slipped back into the arms of Morpheus.

This morning I read another hundred pages. The book was really getting interesting. Just as philosphers wonder about the sound of a tree in the forest without someone to hear it fall, I didn't notice the absence of my phone because I didn't or couldn't hear it ringing. Just as you sometimes have a tune in your head you can't get rid of, I kept imagining I was hearing Beethoven's Fur Elise. The fact that I have used it as a ring-tone on my cell-phone for 2 years (because I can't figure out how to change it) didn't penetrate my early-morning brain until I had eaten a Power Bar, drunk a bottle of Diet Mountain Dew, and munched on 4 Oreos with chocolate Creme filling. That's when I noticed the phone wasn't in the usual spot and began my search. First the floor, then the bedroom sofa, then in the living room because maybe I was mis-remembering bringing it into the bedroom. Nothing. Fur Elise kept haunting me at five minute intervals but only a subtle whisper; never loud enough to lead me to the hiding place. Emulating my Mother I said a quick prayer to St. Anthony, the Saint of Lost Objects. My prayers have been ignored here because of past prayers for virginity, libido, and sanity, all things I have lost many years ago.

My booked, splayed open on the bed, I carefully moved. I didn't want to lose my place and I didn't want to dog-ear the page, so I placed it, still splayed, on top of my TV. The television is on the opposite side of my bed. The side I don't use. Now my bed was stripped down to linen, pillows and blankets strewn about the floor, I was sweating and beginning to have angina pains in my chest when....Fur Elise. It was coming from the bottom of the bed. St. Anthony relented and two seconds later I held the instrument in my hand.

The next few moments were spent putting my bed back in order, taking the empty Mountain Dew bottle to the kitchen and taking a nitro. Now it was time to climb back on the bed and continue my great read.

I couldn't find the book. I didn't even think of looking on top of the TV. I NEVER put anything on top of the TV. St. Anthony ignored my prayers because I'd used up my 'one-lost-object-request-per-decade' so my search began again. I won't bore you anymore but after an hour of more bed-mess, more angina, more nitro, and.....I put on my glasses and without the attending blur, saw my book splayed on top of the television.

I learned in some psych ward somewhere that it wasn't the major traumas and neurosis of one's life that drove one crazy. It was the little thing like the growing ash at the tip of your cigarette that might fall and get on your clothes. Of course it would be simple to just flick the ash in an ash tray, but people!...if things were simple one wouldn't be in a psych ward.

I blame this entire ferkacka day on that ferkacka toaster! Would someone please shoot me?