Uh oh, my age is showing. After a successful attempt to speak with Barry, the only other person in the world that is as available as me, it went something like this. I called him, he told me he'd call me back in a few minutes, he was in the middle of something. I waited about 20 minutes and decided to use the rest room. I no sooner closed the door and he called. The message said to call him back, I did and got his voicemail. He called me as I was consuming my first meal of the day at about noon. I told him I'd call him back and I did, but he was talking to his lawyer and told me to sit tight, it wouldn't take long. He called me back and we chatted for about 5 minutes about local news and he got a call back from the lawyer. I told him not to call me back, we're good. Whew!
I showered, shaved and got dressed. I sat down to put on my shoes and started watching some show about young pretty girls that hate their looks and fell asleep, but only for 15 minutes. Totally disgusted with my latest habits, I walk down to the mailbox to mail something that's been sitting around all weekend with a stamp on it and I collect my mail from today and while I'm walking back, strumming through my latest bills from Qwest who sends me about 3 bills a week, since when I opened the account with them, evidently my agent was new and opened 3 different accounts for me. All at once, I looked up and didn't recognize anything and wondered where I was? That's when I realized I was so engrossed with the horrors of Qwest, that I'd passed my house and was about 5 houses down from it. That's when I realized my age has finally caught up with me. I walked into my house and looked down and there in my shirt pocket was the letter that I went to the mailbox for, in the first place. Maybe I'll mail it tomorrow?