Muddleman's Page

OK, folks. Now that November is over, I'm gonna stop double posting , and will just continue to post at my regular site, so please follow the link to Muddleman.

A few years ago, new neighbors moved in. They seem very nice. I think the wife works on Wall Street, and the husband has a job with the town Public Works Department. They waive at us as we come and go. The husband has fixed up the house quite a bit, and he keeps their lawn trimmed.

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When Mom started her slide into neurosis and depression, I was way too little to realize that anything was wrong. It was only later, as she got worse, that I heard stories. “You think this is bad? Why, did you hear about the time that she . . . ?” No, I hadn’t.

In the late early 1970s, my guess is that her mental illness was in its infancy, and that she was just acting out because she wanted some attention. One story I heard…

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Every day I commute to work on a highway that has three lanes in each direction. I drive the same way home each night. It’s a minimum of ½ hour each way, such that I spend a minimum of an hour a day in my car. Longer if it rains, or snows, or sometimes for no discernable reason whatsoever. And I’ve been doing this for a long while, so its no wonder that an amazing idea has popped into my head, springing…

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I know I’m not the most attentive man in the world, but I’m a decent enough guy. I am certainly not trying to ignore you when you talk to me. Its just that I don’t even realize that you are talking to me until you are about five or more words into your first sentence.

See, before you started talking to me, I was probably doing something. I don’t normally stare off into space, waiting patiently…

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