Speaking of my degenerative brain disease: APPLES!
Sorry, don’t know what came over me. I was saying: this morning, I’d made it to the gate at the airport before I realized that only the top two buttons of my shirt were buttoned. Now, either my shirt had magically flown open, like Heather Thomas’ in Zapped!, or else I’d gone from my car to the long-term parking lot, talking to a stranger about his upcoming trip to Vegas and what it was like being a commute flier, the ride to the terminal, the self-service check-in, standing in line at the United desk, talking to the United representative, standing with the people in the smoking area, going through the security station, ordering from the Burger King, pushing past people on the moving walkway, and riding the shuttle to the commuter terminal, all the while flashing everyone my big, white, hairy gut.
For now, I’m using the fact that I’ve been pre-occupied lately and I did only get five hours of sleep last night as an excuse. But just in case, I’m going to stitch my name and address into my jacket sleeves in case I’m found wandering the Sunset naked from the waist down. (Because I’ve lived here long enough to know never to leave the house without a jacket.)