I'm driving down the freeway. And driving some more. Because I'm going to get my stitches out of my head. And it's far away. Aaallllll the way down where The Husband works. So while I'm driving, I'm thinking. About lots of stuff. The first of which, is this stupid long drive in this stupid long traffic. And The Husband has to endure it every day. Twice. I should buy him some kind of trophy.
I don't know about your city, but in Houston, there are large, digital signs posted here and there. They're used to display important messages about traffic, accidents, weather alerts, that type of thing.
But on this particular morning, the digital billboards display a warning of a "Missing Elderly Person". So, because I'm me, I start thinking about what would happen if a mother went missing. Like, she just walked out her door and disappeared. Would the digital boards alert us to look for her?
Can't you just picture it? "Missing Exhausted Mother, last seen giving her final cash to her teenagers. Call the police if you locate her." And can't you just picture the reaction of all the other mothers who read that sign? "If she can make it out, so can I."
Do you see what I'm saying? There is something wrong with my brain. I'm dreaming of missing mothers everywhere and how delightful that would be. Who on earth would cook dinner?
And then.
Oh, and then.
This arrives in the mail:
And I look through it's pages. And I look at every picture. Over and over again.
And in my mind, I declare this, Candy Porn.
This kind of publication should not be allowed. It's just not right.
If I ever decide to go missing, I'm stocking up on this stuff before I head out.
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