Keeping a Record of Rubber Bands and Ow, that hurts!

It’s a two for one . . . and that makes three.

It makes no sense to keep a record of rubber bands. I use a fair number of them throughout the day. And, like many carriers, when I remove one from a bundle I quickly put it on my right wrist like this:


Before I know it, they have accumulated to a ridiculous degree, and so I toss them on the dash. At the end of the day, I place them into a tray like this:


Then, I put them whence they came into the pouch whose sole purpose is to hold them. You may note that it is over the trash can and adjacent to the waste mail receptacles.


That is just about right, isn’t it, because this is not about rubber bands. It makes no sense to keep a record of them because there will always be more and love does not keep a record of wrongs.

I was going to say much more about this, but today the sweet voice of a songbird compelled me to decide to stop here with it. Enough said.

But, seeing rubber bands another way, I swear if you can get your hands on a USPS rubber band, hang onto it. They are the best. You can stretch them to incredible lengths and they just bounce back. They are great for binding things together too, as I use them daily. And a fool would say that they last forever and never break. Of course, they might, and sometimes do, but I am that fool who says,

“Forever” and “Never”.

I noticed today that I have a small abrasion on my hand and it began to hurt quite a bit. I actually said into the ether contained in my mail truck, “Ow, that hurts!” I realized every time I opened a mailbox that the lid would bump against this wound and then out of habit I’d use the back of that same hand to close the lid, thereby bumping it again. It occurred to me that there was a cut and that it was more sensitive than I knew. Perhaps I am injured after all, and that is why it hurts. It’s gonna be okay and I will be careful. Again, that songbird seemed to heal rather than hurt, and once I realized what had happened in the past (I have no idea how the wound actually occurred or when, just that it is there and it hurts), I could be careful until it is fully healed. Enough said about that too.

Here is what I actually want to say:


Oh dear God, it is a curb AND a corner:) How do I feel how do I feel how do I feel?


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Caution! Dirty diapers ahead.


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Further caution! Levitating bicycles ahead.


Okay okay okay. But, I am also quite prepared to go . . .





I am mesmerized by beauty.

Interesting thing about that word. The word mesmerize comes from the last name of 18th-century German physician Franz Mesmer, who believed that all people and objects are pulled together by a strong magnetic force, later called mesmerism.


Hot sauce suspended in juice encircled by a ring of light inside a glass that is quite full.