Don't Count Your Slugs Before You See Them

    My friend Rachel tells me I lead a very interesting life.  I kinda hate to disappoint her with the facts.  Today the most exciting thing I’ve done is walk the 600 steps down the driveway to get the mail and the newspaper and the 500 step alternate route back to John’s house in order to drop off a tool catalog.

    I didn’t count it exciting when I stepped out of our house this morning to deliver a load of dirty laundry to the shop office, where I do all of our laundry now that the gas dryer in John’s basement is broken.  I wasn’t exactly thrilled when I noticed our dog, Radio, gnawing on some strange, curved thin things that I figured out were animal ribs.  In fact, I was totally grossed out, especially when I noted the chicken leg lying next to her.  At least it wasn’t the head. 

    It wasn’t exciting when, scrounging through the refrigerator as I planned ahead for dinner tonight, I found a plastic bag of colorful vegetables.  Turns out they were the vegetable leavings—moldy red, orange, and yellow peppers and slimy onions that I had  discovered earlier in the week and set out for the compost pile.   Evidently, Mom had retrieved them and bagged them up along with the plastic cup of grease and small bag of coffee grounds.

    Admittedly, on my trek down the driveway, I did have an exciting idea on which to build an essay.  This cool, wet weather seems to bring out the slugs, and when I almost immediately saw a fat brown slug on the ground, I decided to count slugs on the way to the mailbox.  Already, I was deep into the mathematics as well as the creative process:  How many slugs would I find?  What would be the ratio of steps per slug?  What might I say about the whole slug-finding experience?   It turned out to be 600 steps per slug.  You figure the ratio.  Where did all the slimy brown, black, olive green, and spotted slugs go when I needed them?

    However, on the 500 steps back to John’s house (that I know the number of steps testifies to the type of exciting days I have), I was glad for my careful but unfruitful search.  If I hadn’t been scanning the ground in front of me, I would have stepped in a pile of dog poop. 
 
    So, Rachel, there is my exciting day so far.  I hope you’re not disappointed.