mpg

My drive to work is about 30 to 35 minutes and typically uneventful. This morning, as I slapped the left turn signal on for my final turn before entering the company parking lot, I realized I could not recall my drive to work. It was one of those surreal sensations that make me wonder how infact I arrived alive… I am also wondering what effect it may have had on my fuel mileage.

Given Enough Time

I step outside this morning to retrieve the recycle and trash bins from the curb and boof, I walk through a massive spiderweb. I wipe the mess from my face and continue down the driveway. I reach for the larger container and grab the handle and boof, another spiderweb. OK, so now I pause at every change in my surroundings that may present a convenient construction site for my arachnid neighbors and wave my arm about as though I’m in a dark attic with no recollection of the layout.

Dylan wonders into the woods behind the house and I follow; arm waving. He looks back at me as if to say, “looks like fun but I don’t get it.” “OK”, I think. “You’re right. I look silly.” The flailing subsides. Dylan chooses a substantial looking stick and we make out way back to the house. We climb the bank from a different angle than we came down since it provides more trees to grab onto to help our ascent. I grab a smallish Dogwood tree and swing myself around to a small landing a BOOF… spiderweb… face… yuck!

Now, I can appreciate the vision of the developer of these webs. I mean, if they actually worked like he hoped, I would be enough to feed he and his kin for generations too numerous for me to count. But simple physics should inform him that my mass and his engineering skills are not a fair match up. Then I got to thinking… if there is anything to this idea of evolution, then with further analysis and continued real life testing, these critters should be able to someday catch such a prey as I and do their ancestors proud. All they have to do is learn from their attempts and then try again. While I and my descendants are flailing our arms about like a pack of plodding pinwheels, they will be evolving toward the feast of generations.

Buglady Just Squirted

I finished my lunch and was poking around the web enjoying the quiet. My office door opens ever so gently and a uniformed lady steps in and politely asks how I am doing. She makes three squirts from her industrial looking garden sprayer, tells me to have a good day and leaves closing my door behind her. Should I be holding my breath?