OK, so I had a baby heart attack last week. Nothing serious, but still.
Nearing midnight, I was in the bathroom and heard a knock at the front door. No one comes knocking that late, and if someone did, they'd ring the doorbell since the doorbell is lighted and they could see to ring it.
My first inclination was to go see who was knocking, but being indisposed at the time, I had time to think and I finally thought how stupid I was. The knocking noise wasn't at the front door. It was in the dryer in the closet next to the bathroom, and the knocking noise came from two little Norwex balls in the clothes dryer. I forget what they're supposed to do, but when I bought them I thought they were a good idea.
Grateful I didn't actually have a heart attack, I began to wonder why I can't remember stuff like that. I'd never have bought the balls if I didn't think they'd be good, so why can't I remember.
Why is only a good word in Scrabble. You don't need a real vowel and you get a good score, with each tile sporting four points, if you're careful about placement.
Isn't that the kicker, though. You can be good if you're careful about placement. You can be a good pitcher if you place the ball over the plate instead of in the batter's ear. You can be a good farmer if you place the seeds in rows instead of helter-skelter across the field. You can be a good receptionist if you place all the files in the right places.
Receptionists at the Wolfe Clinic are very good at their jobs and a lot of fun to work with. That's a commercial, since they're wondering why I never mention them. Receptionists. Wolfe Clinic. There, it's done.
Last week I watched the 1967 movie "Don't Make Waves," a comedy of mishaps with Tony Curtis. Hate to call the movie old since I was in college at the time and I don't feel old. Well, sometimes I do, but that's beside the point. Actress Sharon Tate was in the movie. She's the actress killed with others by the Charles Manson cult, and "Helter Skelter" was the name of the movie about those cruel killings. I'd never seen her in a movie before, but when I saw her name in the credits, I had a twinge of sadness for her family.
If they see her in old movies, it must be a good feeling to see her talking and walking around. On the other hand, it must hurt their hearts to know they can never again throw their arms around her or tell her how much they love her.
See how slim that wall is between happiness and sadness and how easy it is to get from one thought to another in a short spot of time. In my thoughts, I slipped from playing Scrabble to the horrific murder of Sharon Tate in maybe 10 seconds.
That's almost scary.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Sandy Mickelson, retired lifestyle editor of The Messenger, may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.