Three cheers for the weekend! I got two cheers out and then …
“What happened, Ray? What blocked the third cheer? Was it something I said? Something I was I supposed to say but didn’t?”
“Listen up anonymous poster, this blog is not about you. It’s about me.”
“Being kind of self-centered, a self-imposed sense of self-importance, correct me if I’m wrong.”
“Give me a break. I watched the same episode of Dr. Phil as you did. My excuse was that I was at the gym on the elliptical and bored. What was yours?”
“I’ve not known Dr. Phil to ever be wrong. You fit his description. I thought of you as soon he started talking.”
“Why am I talking to you? You can’t talk unless I write down what you’re saying. Go stand in the corner until tomorrow’s post.”
This is what happened to me, an interruption. A good interruption at that. A phone call from a friend. I stop unpacking my new toaster over. My good interruption led me down a path only the foolhardy will follow. It’s called the man path. I’ve been down this path many times. Each time I head down the path, I neglect to read the warning signs left every twenty feet along the path. The warning signs all repeat the same warning.
“Read Directions Before Using.”
I bought a toaster oven. I brought it home in time to put it into action before lunch. How difficult can it be to work a toaster oven? First issue: Taking the toaster oven out of the box. Do I take it out carefully in case I want to return it? Or, do I show the packing and shipping department who’s boss? The answer: it’s easier to recycle in small pieces.
Why is there a plastic wrap around the cord? Is it sterile? Am I not supposed to touch it? Then there is a tiny plastic wire tied around the cord. The poor thing can’t breathe. Off with them. No prisoners. I hope I didn’t hurt the toaster oven. I hope the plug still works.
I’m staring at it. The toaster oven glances over at the directions. I’ve never seen a toaster over glance, but this is the digital age. It’s all possible.
I pick up the directions and flip them into the shredded box pile. Don’t need them. I will never need them. They are there for the insecure. They are there for those who can’t figure things out on the fly. First thing. Plug this baby in. So far so good. Did I need a direction for that? I think not. In fact, I’ll wager the directions say, “Read this before plugging the unit in.” Duuh!
The smoke alarm is peaceful. Hmm, it has a couple of knobs. What’s this tray thing? It must go inside. Okay, Ray, pull the handle down, insert tray thing. What’s this other thing? It looks like a small pan. They probably threw in something extra. I wonder where this was made? I can’t read the writing on the side. It wasn’t made in San Antonio, that’s for sure. If it was, it would have come with an enchilada recipe.
Speaking of such. I pull out a tortilla, put some tuna on it, slice a tomato from my garden and put a few slices on the tuna. I sprinkle it all with nonfat mozzarella. I am admiring my masterpiece. I look in the toaster oven, all I see are grates. You’d think they’d give you a pan. Oh, they did. What did I do with it? Did I take it out to recycle? I know, I’ll put my tortilla on a glass plate. It’s looking good. I wonder what’s a good temperature to do a tortilla? I think I’ll play it cool and put it on broil. I don’t have time to waste. What do you think? Five minutes should do it. I figure out the timer. I have the broiler going. I’m going to chill until I smell the ….
I promise, I promise, I promise, I will read the directions. I think I shredded them.
There are directions important to read.
There are directions important to follow.
There are things we know without having to read or be told to follow: Love everyone, forgive, reconcile whenever possible, and lend a helping hand to all who need one.
