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Stimulus – response.
Sometimes, when you hear folks from a couple of generations back speak, you hear them talk about the good old days, the days when they didn’t have to lock their doors when they left the house. Did anyone who ever grew up in a city EVER REALLY do that? I’ll admit to occasionally leaving my car unlocked when I know that I’m going back out soon. Two factors lead to this practice. First, you may recall that my car no longer has a functioning climate control system. The only means of regulating internal temperature is to change the window aperture. Unless I want to do some cooking in my car, I usually leave the windows open or park in the shade (if I am home or just leaving my car for a few moments). Second,… yeah, I don’t really have a second one. It’s really just the windows thing.
So what am I going to do if there is suddenly a rash of theft in my neighborhood? CRIME? IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD? Yes, you heard me right my friend. Florida may be tougher than one of my grilled steaks on crime, but crime still rears its ugly face in my backyard. Cheryl, my source of anecdotal evidence for crime trends in the greater Dunedin metropolitan area, has advised me that there has been a rash of thefts and burglaries in our neighborhood.
Do I leave my beloved car vulnerable to the less desirable elements of the neighborhood and ride in relative comfort; or, do I play it safe and cook up some fresh John? Does a locked door prevent a theft in your driveway? How does Cheryl feel about driving without air? Do I really want a low-fat pizza for lunch?
Answers are not included.
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Everything is o.k.
It is twenty minutes past noon. Do you know where your attention is?
Today is the fourth sick day I’ve taken this month. I can’t remember when was the last time I’ve spent so much time at home sick. No, I take that back. There was that case of the flu in 2001 that kept me out for a week. Ah, those were the days.
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I know that feeling from somewhere.
My mouth is watering. My stomach is making noise, the kind that other people can hear. Foods that I would not otherwise like seem… palatable. Even cheese.
Yeah, no… I’ve got to take that one back. No coagulated sour milk for me please.
The time has come for some serious hunting and gathering. With the comforts of 21st century society, no tools are necessary. All I need is the will and desire to rise to my feet and walk to the cookie jar. Thank God for processed foods, grocery stores, and wives that don’t mind doing all of the shopping.