I was exceedingly irresponsible on Wednesday.
I thought I might be turning into a bum.
“…if I keep this up, I won’t have a place to lay my head.”
It’s okay though, I snapped out of it.
Here’s what happened…
Work was stacking up, a real tower of babbling and beeping and buzzing.
Typical Wednesday morning for important people who do important stuff.
Something called me outside for a minute before diving in.
Then I just laid on the lawn and counted clouds.
For hours.
Horrendous, I know. And it gets worse.
I let the baby eat a dandelion and climb on my head and play with a piece of green hose so now he probably thinks playing with snakes is totally fine.
And I did nothing, still.
The dog snored.
The sun shined.
The chimes chimed.
We watched a snail labor for two hours over the fresh cut grass.
He was doing about 12 inches per hour, top speed. Working very hard.
Then our Rock Island Red named Julia came along and ate him.
Snails only live a few weeks, you know.
Even where rusty-feathered chickens aren’t.
Still, something was super important to this silly snail.
Something other than drinking today’s bluest sky and occasionally watering the greenest grass with my eyes.
His imagined destination (probably not a chicken gullet) must have been important indeed, for him to be striving so certainly for most of his short snail life.
Thank God I have a big man brain and not a tiny snail brain.
Everyone knows you gotta have a sense of urgency to get anywhere in life.
Anyway, I’m back to work on my tower now so it’s all good.
It’s a very important tower and lots of people are counting on me I think.
—
“Hey, how do you know the snail was a ‘he’?”
Good question.
Mostly a guess.
When it comes to work, women seem to know better.
But you already knew that, didn’t you? =)