Can anyone explain why it is that you don't realize you forgot to rinse one armpit in the shower until you already have your underwear on and are looking for a shirt? Why can this discovery not be accomplished when you are squeegeeing off the shower, such that it is relatively easy to accomplish this annoying task?
Why is it that I occasionally diverge from my shower routine and completely forget to shampoo my head? There I'll be, drying off, when I come to the startling realization that I'm getting senile. Which leads to further confirmation of the diagnosis since I immediately start muttering to myself and cursing as I disrobe and get back in the shower.
While I am asking rhetorical questions, I would like to get an explanation (and slow motion video would be nice too) of how small rocks come to get under my foot while I'm wearing my sandals.
The last time I checked, the rocks were underneath my feet. I step down upon them. They spray outward from the impact, then somehow fly up and execute complex aerial maneuvers in order to wind up underneath my tender tootsies. What sort of rigorous pilot training must these things take in order to perform such feats of aerobatics? I would like to know.
I am also intrigued by the whole underwear thing. You'll pull a fresh pair out of the drawer and find them to be inside out. I get them all arranged, with the tag at the front, then I execute the flip maneuver, such that they become right side in. Out. Whatever. And the tag is now at the back now. I find this absolutely amazing to behold each morning. What an awe-inspiring way to start the day. This is the sort of magic that got David Copperfield started I am sure.
So! Thus refreshed by my insightful thoughts, feel free to begin your days activities. You are indeed welcome.