If Our Thoughts Were on Intercom

As I was walking around doing routine maintenance on my drawbridge today, I decided to keep track of the things that were going through my head.

  • The song Cover of The Rolling Stone by Dr. Hook.

  • The idea for this blog entry.

  • I should have worn a jacket. I was wishful springing.

  • Wow, he was good looking.

  • He’s also young enough to be my son. Get a grip.

  • People don’t say hello in this town.

  • Let’s try not to get mowed down in the crosswalk for a change.

  • Traffic in this town is out of control.

  • A conversation I had with a friend recently in which I laughed inappropriately. I really need to learn to control myself. But I’m laughing even now, just thinking about it.

  • I wonder if I’ll ever be able to buy a house here.

  • I miss my dog. He’s probably home playing poker or something.

  • Hostile work environments.

  • Did I remember to bring my lunch?

  • Outstanding stuff on my to-do list that I know I’ll never do.

Basically, if my brain were on an intercom, it would be spouting trivia that no one would really care to hear. But lest you act all superior, that’s most likely the case with you, too. Can you imagine walking down a crowded sidewalk, having to listen to the minutiae of everyone’s daily life? It would be maddening.

It would also force us to be honest. That would be interesting. And potentially dangerous. Because while those shorts don’t make you look fat, c’mon. Plaid is soooooo 1972.

intercom

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2 thoughts on “If Our Thoughts Were on Intercom

  1. lyn sutton

    Your thoughts sparked many thoughts, Here’s a few… Sylvia’s mother says Sylvia’s busy…but he’s not your son, so…a real friend would get why you laughed…in my town you don’t want people to say hello…if she dressed Quagmire up he could play strip poker…top of my to do list is stop making to do lists…with everyone on their cell phones we are listening to the minutiae of everyone’s daily life and it’s driving me mad…I though plaid was making a come back…and what happens when we push the trade button… bet Barb’s happy my brain’s not wired to an intercom. 🙂

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