The longer I live, the longer my list of things I just don't understand. For example, when I'm driving along about five miles over the speed limit and there's not a car behind me for 10 miles down the road, why does someone coming off a side street whip out in front of me, cause me to slam on my breaks and then after going about 50 feet turn on the left turn signal?
And then there are these games of motor skill, anything from ring toss to these little hand-held games where you have to put some sort of peg through some sort of hole. I could spend hours plotting and scheming and doing geometric gymnastics in my head trying to figure out how to how to get the two pieces to hook up, but all to no avail. So why is it that every time I do yardwork, at least every five minutes I get the rake stuck in my shoelace?
Twice I've received a spice rack as a gift. Each had 16 jars. My first thought was that for someone who cooks a lot, how does one decide which spices to put in the fancy jars and which to leave in the cupboard? But actually, that never became an issue. You see, each jar held only seven-eighths of a standard jar of spices. So that means no matter which spices I put in the jars, I still have to find a place to store 16 jars that are only one-eighth full. And when the spice rack jar is running low, I have to remember to refill from the original jar, which would probably mean climbing up on a stool to reach it wherever I stashed it before I go out and buy a new jar. If I forget and go buy a new one, then it means that I have to consolidate two jars that are each one-eighth full. Am I missing something here? Are spice racks meant only for decoration?
I can't help but wonder about this paradox. It seems more and more kids are being put on Ritalin simply because their so-called hyperactive behavior is annoying to adults. Yet more and more adults are going out and paying big bucks for a Jack Russell Terrier, which has to be the most hyper animal that ever lived.
And speaking of animals, even they do things I simply can't comprehend. Our house is surrounded by at least 10 acres of hardwoods, a sanctuary for wildlife. So why do the woodpeckers fly up to our house and destroy the painted wood on our windows? And why do the rabbits use the decorative rocks in my flower beds for a bathroom? And why do the box turtles mate in the blazing sun in the grassy strip along side the driveway?
Anyone have any answers?
Susan Larson is a writer who lives in Lilburn. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.