The One About Auto-Pilot

When I think auto-pilot, I think about the one in the movie Airplane! A classic of course. Now that one could fly, and smoke, among other things. But I don't know if my auto-pilot is working properly. One of my friends is blaming the change in the weather. It has been overcast and wet. Downright dreary. Perhaps it has put a dampening field upon my usually sharp intellect. Of late some of my sensory readings have started to malfunction. And have caused me to write as if I were on the bridge of the Enterprise.

For instance. After I have ended a text or phone call, instead of just hitting end or closing the phone I have turned off the phone. Now that's the kind of move my sister Patty would do. Not the kind of thing I would do. It's rare for my phone to be silent for long. That's how I have caught it. Oh, what's it doing off? Well, it seems I turned it off. Stupid.

It gets better. I was driving down a main road the other day and actually had to call my spouse to ask if I was headed in the right direction. That was annoying for me. Turns out I was. Now, I could rationalize it a little. Sometimes you just don't go all the way down some roads. And this was one of those times. The more I drove the more I began to wonder. Should I be passing this? Was I supposed to turn? I wasn't truly lost. I knew where I was. I just didn't know if I was supposed to be there. Turns out, I was supposed to be there. Phooey.

My favorite auto-pilot failure was when I bought shampoo. Allegedly. I did have the girls with me. And I was trying to contain them. I thought the shampoo was thicker than usual. And I thought it was not lathering as it should. But it was mixing with the old shampoo so it didn't matter that much to me. But it was so thick I had to get a funnel to fill the bottle. You see I had gotten and enormous jug of the stuff. And Jim was complaining and complaining. So I filled that sucker right up. Then he said he couldn't get it to soap up. That's when I pulled out the jug. What do you know. Conditioner isn't known for its ability to lather.

Least I haven't brushed my teeth with hair spray or put princess underwear in my lingerie drawer. I mean I have nothing against Cinderella. Unlike my girls, I don't have to wear her. Somewhere I'll find the permission slips I have to fill out and the school projects that are due. It seems that school work is meant for parents too, crisis or no, and I have to get this done. Waving about my college degree will not get me out of it either. I already tried it.