Porsche

Friendly Reader:

The tricky thing about Spring in Atlanta is that you're never really sure that it IS Spring in Atlanta. Take yesterday for instance - 30 degrees. Three days before that it was hot pollen and heatstroke. They were selling boiled exotic fish outside the new aquarium. Its like the Weatherman has gone schizophrenic*.

Actually, I know our weatherman personally and he isn't schizophrenic at all. He's a golfer.

I was there when the Weatherman's son wrecked his Porsche. In fact, I provided the buffing compound to attempt scratch removal at 3AM. George held the light for us in the driveway. It was a team effort Porsche-wrecking. We failed in the buffing and thus ended those halcyon days of us in the weatherman's Porsche. I liked my 1978 Bronco better anyway (when it ran). Which was approximately...never. So I guess I showed you, Weatherman!

As I write this I find myself absentmindedly biting my fingernails.

Why do I do that? I know it isn't good for me. Sometimes I think to myself:
"I know it ruins my fingers, people notice, fingernails are dirtier than roaches, and what do you do when you bite it off? Swallow it? Spit it out? Either way somebody in the room is offended and then do I feel bad? What then? Am I self-conscious about it? Should I be? Maybe I should quit."

What it boils down to is this: I really like doing it and I've invested so much effort into it at this point that I think I'm going to keep it up.

Nobody likes a quitter.


JGE


*If you find yourself reading this, think "HEY I'm schizophrenic and you're making fun of me!!!", and contemplate taking some sort of retaliatory action; first ask yourself and yourself what to do about it and if you two can agree on a plan of action - let me know. Until then don't bother me with it. I'm insensitive. There, I said it.