Balance
I saw two flying bugs having sex as I walked up the driveway today.They may only live a week or two, but they’re having sex in mid-air. That’s got to be a very decent consolation prize. When bugs write poetry, they probably write little ditties like this:
No matter your station
Acrobatic copulation
Is some compensation
For our speedy termination
Don’t think I didn’t have more of that.
I went to the grocery store today to pick up some yogurt. No need for a hand cart—I was just picking up one thing.
Then I saw something else I needed. And something else. By the time I picked everything up, I had five containers of yogurt in a tower, a box of cereal, a box of litter pan liners, and a bag of cat litter. I’m two flaming torches and a shaved head away from headlining at Cirque du Soleil. I’m staggering down the cereal aisle, still having managed to not drop one item, when a store employee sees me. She’s pushing a cart, and when she sees my remarkable skill, she immediately says “Let me give you this cart.”
“No need,” I said. “I grew up in a circus family.”
I thought she would just start laughing, but instead, she thought about it for a few seconds, then said “What was that like?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.
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