brag, escaped, driving

* Not to brag or anything but I can forget what I am doing while I am doing it.

* I hope wherever my socks have gone they are happy. The bra ran away months ago.

* For me, driving is such a contemplative time (though not so much in horrid traffic) when I calm myself and iron out the major, big, cataclysmic offerings my present world is giving to me on a dented platter. Somedays I want to run away on a many week road trip so I can really set things straight. Today a jaunt to the post office had to suffice.  I have recently been analyzing why I still rent the post office box in another town ten miles away. The rent increases every year and now is due in September.  It has been mine since 1989. Many times under threat of closing, this small PO has plodded on, displaying the same inside decor, a yellow plastic 50's wall covering. Workers  wear thread bare plaid flannel shirts except when they know a big boss is coming at which time they hunt around for the official shirts kept wadded up under the front counter.  The exterior was caulked and repainted two years ago, three years after a big hail (tennis ball size) storm tore and gouged into it. Traffic flow is a nightmare in the parking lot so to visit during open business hours is iffy. I could have used the word 'problematic' there but that word dissolves me into the giggles for some reason. Are there words that do that to you? The wife of the parson down the street does the cleaning. The air is so quiet as I sit in the scary parking lot-- only the deep octave cattle sounds and the gentle swish of the dinosaur shaped field sprinkler exist. The canyon begins just west of the PO. I will keep the box. I will tell you how much the rent increases this year.