Since I have inertia going for me, I continue the stumble with a bit of body english to make the corner into the kitchen. The coffee maker is yodeling its siren call. Well, maybe it's more of a gutteral gagging but that description doesn't go well with Brad & Micki's lights.
Yodeling. Yep. Softly yodeling.
Let's stay with that.
Elixir in hand, (AHHHHH), over hand and on carpet, I get to the keyboard with only minor burns and a pat on my back for agreeing to brown-tone carpeting.
I've been looking at the keyboard and the screen for awhile. Nothing.
Another pull of the Elixir. Well, at least my mouth's warm.
As I set the cup down, I see the desk top. Among the tangle of cords, boxes, speakers, screens, discs, and papers I spy three batteries. Two AAs and one AAAs.
Huh.
Are they good or not?
The question begs an answer.
How do they do that? They do that tongue thing, right?
I pick up a AA and look at it. I start to stick out my tongue and get an epiphany.
I put the AA down and grab the AAA. I'll pick a fight with the little brother first.
As the battery moves towards my face, a question flashes out of the 1971 folder in the archives of my mind.
"I wonder how I'd look in a 'Fro?"
Houston, we have contact. And not much else.
I'm thinkin' they're dead batteries, left here in a rush to keep the wireless mouse and keyboard operating. I might've done it or the Wife or TechnoBoy. Or that other invisible guy that lives here when we ALL didn't do it but somehow it happened.
Now the cylindrical corpses are starting to bug me.
I hear the wisdom of a good ol' boy from a long time ago.
"If the dog don't hunt, shoot it!"
I walk 'em out to kitchen for a quick burial with all the pomp and circumstance of scraping out the kitchen skillet.
Huh.
Decisions.
We make a lot of 'em everyday. Deciding what to do. Where to go.
What to keep and what to throw away.
All we can do is get the best information available, the best guidance and counsel, make the call, and pull the trigger.
But it's up to us to make the call and do it.
Walking away from the trashcan, I swear I hear the faint howls and whimpers of hunting dogs.
Weird.
But I think that's just the Elixir talkin'.