A Skewed View

I am pleased to announce that I have four plants currently living in my apartment!  Two are peace lilies that haven't flowered -- but I've had them for maybe four to six months and they remain alive! One is a pointsettia I've had since Christmas.  Still alive. The fourth - and the one that has prompted this post - is my attempt to make up for my epic failure with its earlier relative.  Remember this poor soul? Well I picked up another one yesterday.  Except the one I have now is naturally camera-shy, given what happened to its predecessor. All my plants have begged me not to show their pictures online, lest there exist some curse involved in being associated with my care.  But maybe one day...

Some time ago, I took an extreme close-up picture of one of my moles next to a ruler, so I can keep an eye on whether it changes in shape or size.  Because, you know, I've reached that age where I scrutinize every mole wondering if it has changed in shape or size. So what's the problem? I can't remember where on my body to find the mole in order to compare it to the picture.

I had heard that one way of thwarting telemarketers was to make them think the number they have dialed is in fact a fax machine.  I've tried different tones on my cordless phone, all to no avail.  Then I had an epiphany: When I turned sixteen, my sister bought me a new-fangled telephone.  It had push buttons, but it was still just a rotary phone - when you pressed each button to dial, you still heard the rotary "tat-a-tat-tat-tat" with every number.  I had held onto this phone ever since.  It's cute.  It works.  There was no reason to get rid of it. I was willing to bet that, in this day and age of advanced technology rendering yesterday's device obsolete on a daily basis, a telemarketer - who is likely going to be decades younger than my phone - would be unable to even identify a rotary phone by sight much less by sound. And voila!  Answering the phone with my rotary phone, and constantly pressing the buttons, the telemarketer kept repeating "Hello?

A number of years back, I went for a job interview for a job that I didn't really want in the first place.  Because I didn't really have the drive to show off a sparkling wit, or a dazzling intellect, or an amazing level of competence in my responses, I was calm, relaxed, confident and personable.  To this day, I think it was the best interview I ever gave. As I walked out of the building into the spring sunshine, I descended the steps marvelling at what a cake walk the interview had been.  Then my high heel caught in the fallen hem of my dress pants and I tipped over straight-legged onto the unforgiving cement sidewalk below like an AT-AT Walker into the frozen ground of Hoth. The Universe does not like me happy.  It really doesn't.  The above is what I think is one of the most humourous of my examples, but it is by no means the only example of how I have been taken down a peg by the Powers That Be because I was too pleased with myself, my abilities or my good fortunes