TMI: My Tangents
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That's---getting worse.

I thought it was a country song that existed as an earworm buried in a messy head closet, the one which goes back and forth between "Oh/no, that's bad," and "No/oh, that's good," and after a bad definitively ends with "No, that's awful." For all I know one of Clyde Adler's many arm accessories, defiant lion Pooky, mimed it on Soupy Sales.

I finally tracked it down and while a country singer named Archie Campbell had that title the version I recall was by, of all people, Sam The Sham And The Pharaohs. Sam's ends up with "awful" though the story track, involving among other things accidents, insurance, taxes, a nurse and a jealous wife, is pretty similar.

Yes, I had a good and bad today. It starts off good with while I am a lifelong bachelor my laundry fills my hampers at a goodly rate, I am prissy enough. So today it was the unmentionables, to roll back a little "priss", and I got the machine going. Then I remembered the two small light green towels I use at fitness classes, especially for brow mopping at spinning. They're out in the car, for which the key is in my place. As I get in I nervously scan the phones for signs of calls. I was in an accident a few days ago and while things ***may*** be straightened out one worries about certain surprises.

So far so good but where's my single key? I'll settle for the cluster set before the machine fills but as I head for the car port---oh, the car is in the shop from yesterday for what turned out to be a throttle case problem. Terms like "throttle case" were not around during the heyday of the novelty records, nor were $300 keys.

Back up and---what's that on the floor (told you I am single)? A green towel! I got my exercise effluvia, especially the shoes, out of the car to prepare for its stay at the shop, so the other towel is found and into the drink they go.

But, you know, I'm further remembering I had cleared the fitness apparel the evening before taking the car in because I wanted Blue Bossa's trunk to be merely a bit ragged as opposed to its usual mold-medal for tackiness self for my band carpool and his baritone sax.

And then the final realization: It hadn't been my night to drive.

Losing towels, then track, maybe I'm losing my mind. That's awful--ly like real life.

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