I love to eat and drive at the same time. As a child my father forbad his 6 children to eat in the car. So much for senior citizen rebellion (moi).
Was feeling hungry but needed to drive to the bank to miss rush hour traffic, so I packed a bowl of peanuts, a Stayman apple, and a bottle of water to keep me happy while I rode twenty minutes to my bank.
When I got in the car, NO peanuts. Taking a cursory look back in the house, I could not find them, so I dutifully poured another handful and drove off, munching away.
Whenever I leave home, I back slowly out of the drive so I won't kill any of my fine neighbors and I take a long look at my house. I do love my house and I gaze lovingly at it when I pull out the drive. My people at various times have lived in:
shtetls or ghettoes
tents in the desert
wooden farmhouses in Hungary where they had blond hair and blue eyes and read during the long day while they watched the flocks of sheep
But nowhere could I find the glass bowl of peanuts.
I'm driving in the fast lane going up Huntingdon Pike, there's a mass of cars, we pass Holy Redeemer Hospital on the right with a lovely statue of one of The Redeemers out front and I'm munching away on my new bowl of peanuts when suddenly I hear the sound of glass shattering.
Hmmm, I think. Had I left the bowl on the back of my car it would've shattered much earlier. But, yes, I think, that's probably what happened. Possibly in another dimension, not here, b/c there's no glass in my driveway.
Life is a mystery. But I don't mind. Do you?