I was upstairs? And I remembered numbers, for some reason. And then ~ no ~ it was girls I remembered. And THEN, I remembered numbers.
Oh yah ~ I need think up a name for my spouse. To use. Here. (Not in real life.) Then I thought, well ask the people on rambi to keep their eyes open ~ they know her, after all ~ and that to complete the project and cement interest, I could offer sexual favors, from me, for a bonus. Incentive.
This is a thing to do, in Responsible Mode.
So then I thought about girls, and boy I would like one of them, anyone, to win; and I thought then about numbers, and remembered a girl 5,10,15 ~ and I thought what happened to her? Wasn't she just around? (This is all true; like duh. This is the actual glimpse into the mind.)
I walked thru the closet and looked out the window and IT HIT ME!
Wow! Connection!
SHE'S A POST NUMBER!!!
I thought, crap, you're never going to get posts. I knew that, because this remembering thing, way too late, is all I remember, over and over.
The only difference was this time, I thought ahead to a number. Unique twist. Should/could affect the whole process, like a broken arm.
But not really.
Doesn't affect it at all.
There IS no process.
Forgetting is not something you "DO."
I'm going to stand by that postulate. Maxim. Whatever.
I forget. A really stong thing, in mathematics.
So, I thought, that smartass Lather has already been down here and got that post while I was away. Or asleep; same thing.
And I actually got a little angry at myself, while I was descending the stairs. Not at Lather; you can't blame the termite.
Then I got down here, luckily intact, and that post is still years away.
Crap.
This grubbing takes way too much.
It's for Strange people.
A person, a reasonable person, could be doing something else.
Well; off to the mechanic's. Really.
Norton thinks it's a plug.
Rrrrrright. |
