1. I try to use the  time I would spend making a list to do something useful
  2. Sometimes I do.
  3. Sometimes I don’t.
  4. Though I take solace in the thought:
  5. “Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.” 
  6. Friedrich Nietzsche
  7. Make no lists.
  8. Thank you,
  9. Peter R.S.H.V. (Reformed Self Help Victim)
  10. https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/the-satisfaction-of-a-list/

For The Birds

Indigo Bunting leaned against the bar and surveyed the lounge with her usual indolence. There he was resplendent in his ultra violet suit wearing his yellow  hair all brushed up to a point like the big ol prissy Cockatiel she was looking for.

He seemed the likely eager green volunteer to her next sensuous hoax. But he was anything but a nookie novice.

She did not know then that he used the nam de plume of Nymphicus Hollandicus for his extensive erotic writings all drawn on first wing exploits. Yes his quill had penned many a blue tail.

His beak had been around the block, so to speak.

Indigo was soon to find out that her’s had bitten off more than she could chew.

So she sidled over to the great bird as she lowered the front zipper of her feather tight red  jump suit knowing intimately the effect her astonishing cuttlebone cleavage had. Other fowls would flock to cuddle, yet this one just pecked distractedly at the seed scattered on the bar.

In she swooped and she cooed into the colorful spot on the side of his head, “I am going to squeeze you like an orange.”

“I hope so.” Nymphicus Hollandicus replied with a flapping of wings and an early spring preen.

So they flapped and they soared and they warbled and they twittered and they chirped and they trilled each other until the next morn.

But when the rainbow appeared with the sun it was clear, that Nymphicus Hollandicus had taken it on the wing leaving Inigo Bunting perch-less and seed-less.

Oh dear


Not Too

This speech is a Goldilocks moment in film

As I wracked the little reptile brain at the core of my big old bloated monkey brain, I have to say that many of my Goldilocks moments when taken to further review may have been no more than the best outcome given the events that led up to it.

Or simply stated; it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Just right is way too subjective.

I have learned to cherish the “not too” moments more.

Not too happy.

Not too sad.

Not too smart.

Not too dumb.

Not too pretty.

Not too ugly.

Not too right.

Not too wrong.

Objectivity as an objective is less objectionable than any object.

So by dispatching the constant monitoring of the “just right” meter has given me many more “not too” moments to enjoy rather than striving to peg the “just right” needle on the dial.

In closing I would like to paraphrase AMC’s favorite advertising puke with this immutable law of commerce.

“What you call just right was invented by guys like me…to sell you _______.”

Fill in the blank just right for you.