The You Crack Me Up Scale

Apparently, my last blog post was a two on the "You Crack Me Up" scale.  You know how they rate chili peppers on the Scoville scale? Well, I'm rating my blog posts on the You Crack Me Up scale.  For the last one, two people emailed me beginning with, "You crack me up ..."  

And I'm glad for that.  We all need more giggles and more laughter. My problem is that I can't be funny on cue.  And sometimes I'm perfectly serious, not knowing I'm funny.  

Like right now.  I'm sitting here sipping decaf and writing to you, knowing full well that there are a couple of wonderful bread rolls with a dental floss flag sticking out of one of them in the living room.  It's not really a flag, but it's dental floss with a little handle.  And I stuck it in one of the rolls so I wouldn't forget to floss.  Eat bread. Floss. It seems perfectly logical to me.  But if you showed up now and looked at it, you might think it was funny.

Speaking of funny as in odd thoughts: today I saw an elderly lady with a walker with two tennis balls on the back feet (so they wouldn't scratch the floor).  I wonder if that lady had to buy a can? Because those cans have three tennis balls.  Does she save the third one for when one gets worn? Or does she give it to a friend who plays tennis?

Also, I have another question.  How well do I have to know a person before I can ask him or her to help me clean the bugs out of my kitchen light?  I can reach it and take it apart if I use my trusty mini ladder/stepstool.  But if I fall off and I'm alone, my goose is cooked.  Hence, the bugs have been collecting in this convex light in the kitchen since the summer.  There's a goodly amount.  In fact, if I were so inclined, I could make a meal out of them.  Literally.  I saw a guy who uses cricket flour exclusively in baking.  Yeah, I think he's nuts too.

A friend suggested feeding the nasty geese who plague northern cities to the homeless.  I wonder if 1) if they would like the taste, and, 2) who would pluck all of those suckers.  Maybe it would give rise to a new profession: itinerant goose plucker.  That person would go from town to town plucking the geese.  I have eaten wild goose once and I didn't like the taste.  Maybe if you dumped a lot of spaghetti sauce on it and added pasta, it would be o.k. 

O.k., I'm going to eat my rolls now.  But I might have to make more coffee.  I still love this Keurig! Talk about instant gratification!