Fugato

I kept putting a pen in my coat’s inside pocket, but still I never seemed to have a pen with me when I needed one.

It turned out that five (5) pens were living in a parallel universe in the lining of my coat, having passed through a wormhole in the pocket. Like Carol Anne in the TV, but less creepy. I fondled them upwards to the hole and pulled them back into the real world.

That was three weeks ago, and now I have fished things out of the lining about 15 times; mostly the same things, which I soon put back in the pocket without thinking. Right now there is a chapstick crawling around in there, and a USB key, and undoubtedly several pieces of paper with the phone numbers of charming and eligible bachelorettes desperately tearing their finely groomed hair out waiting for my call. Paper is hard to find and manipulate by groping through thick fabric. O cruel Fate! The love of my life, lost to a wardrobe malfunction.

The sensible thing to do, of course, would be to sew up that hole and be done with it. Somehow I haven’t done that yet. Having to fish stuff out once in a while is never painful enough to spur me to fix the problem. Yet I have undoubtedly spent more time fumbling around with my coat in public places like a complete oddball, than it would have taken to just sew up the hole.

I have an eerie feeling that this is not the only situation in which I have wasted time by taking the shortest path.

Are you wasting time? Do you have a hole to sew up?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 3rd, 2006 at 3:37 am and is filed under Pælings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.