Unattended Children can drown in as little as one inch of water.

I have been left unattended.  Meredith flew to New Jersey for her East Coast Bridal Shower and before 24-hours had passed I’d bought 3 new knives, a t-shirt, a pair of shoes, a video game, a DVD, a pizza, a root canal, a bottle of whiskey, and two six-packs of beer.  I should not be left unattended.

Unattended Children will be sold to Gypsies.

I had an unintentional Zen moment yesterday.  I had gone to Rite Aid to get more Vicodin (which I so rarely take; seriously, I could open my own pharmacy with all the Vicodin scattered around my apartment) and parked in the corner of the parking lot.  After I’d gone inside to get my prescription filled and pick up other assorted crap (Odor Eater insoles and plastic forks; it really is a party in my head all the time.  I wish you could spend a few minutes up there; it’s awesome) someone parked a small truck in the perpendicular space next to mine and the bed of their truck blocked me in the space.  I noticed this as I was walking to the car, so I climbed in and started up the engine and the CD player powered on and greeted me with Mozart.  I sat behind the wheel and listened to classical music while the rain beat down on the windshield and waited patiently for the driver to appear from the store and move their vehicle.  It was a peaceful moment, a Zen moment, though forced.  Eventually the person did move their vehicle, and I wasn’t the slightest bit upset, until that same truck blocked the turn lane I wanted to be in and made me miss the first rotation of the traffic light.  Then I was upset.  My euphoria had worn off.

Unattended Children will be given an Espresso and a Free Puppy.

My smartphone is a smartass.  It keeps trying to correct my typing with words that are far more sophisticated than the ones that I use on a regular basis.  For instance, I type “crap”, it puts up “veal”.  Sure, I’m not a fan, but I’ve never had anyone scare the veal out of me.  I type “RSVP”, a rather common acronym, and it puts up “TACO”.  No, I don’t want you to TACO to my wedding.  So my friend texts me while I’m at Rite Aid and asks what I’m doing.  After dealing with a convention with 31,000 foot doctors earlier in the week (30,999 of whom were from a foreign country and spoke one word of English: beer), I was surprised to inform her that I was looking at Dr Scholls shoe insoles.  Why lie, right?  “Whatcha up to?”  fighting warlocks  “Really?”  No.  Except my phone told her I was looking for Dr Scholls insolent.  What a smartass!  Though it was ironic because I called all of the Orthopaedic surgeons “Dr. Scholls” while they were here, and I hated them.  They had an inordinate sense of entitlement for a group of people who looked at the human form the first day of medical school, screwed their faces in grimaces of discontent, then pointed to the bottom of it and said “I’ll just work on that.”

Unattended Children will be put to work in the Cheese Cave.

I went to dinner with a friend late last night, around 1am or so, and at the time it seemed a great idea to order a burger (a melt on marbled rye with sauteed onions and ooey-gooey cheese) with a side of macaroni-n-cheese and krab louie.  And wash it all down with coffee.  So I went to sleep shortly after 2am and started waking up around 5am; in my mind I’d created an alternate reality wherein I’d made a FaceBook event of my getting up at 7:30am and people were posting encouraging comments and their own sleep vs wake status, as well.  So I’m slipping between looking at the clock and updating the FaceBook page in my mind while my subconscious snores on, and this goes on for two hours.  Finally, at 7am I get up and take some Advil because my root canaled tooth is screaming in my head.  I lay down with the blissful thought that I can sleep for thirty more blessed minutes, but my elation disappears when my stomach punches me in the sphincter.  So I turn the alarm function off and shit out half my body.  That was how I started today.  And my heart burns.

I should not be left unattended.