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Sometimes Don’t You Just Want To…

     Don’t you ever want to sit down with someone and set him on the straight and narrow? Got a new pastor, minister, rabbi (don’t want to get in trouble here) last month. Arrives one fine Sunday, gives his sermon, never says hello, I’m glad to be here. Next week, same thing.

     Month later, he calls a meeting. Gotta great concern. Need to establish a dress code for the congregation. Suits, ties, dresses, no open-toe shoes. Wha-a-a-t? What about our souls, Reverend? Never found a dress code in the Ten Commandments. We’re all just comfortable – and kind.

     Oh well. Who’m I to say? But I sure would like to sit down with him for five minutes and explain about the love of God. Oh well. Who’m I to say?

     Then there’s this other guy. I’m not telling his name, occupation, relationship - nor anything else that might bring me to a sudden state of singlehood. But the darn guy – he’s s’posed to walk, walk, walk. He’s s’posed to – well, if I say much more, you’ll know who he is and so will he, so let’s just say I’d sure like to sit him down and send him off on a long hike. Or four short ones every day - like the doctor told him. ’Course he’s been telling me for years to go get a check-up, so who’m I to say?

     The new boss – great boss. Wonderful person. Sure like to sit her down and set her on the straight and narrow. Unh-uh. I’m steering my way out of this one. One thing to lose my religion; one thing to lose my forever partner; but lose my job? Never! So let’s just let this one rest.

     So what is it with me that I’ve got this great wish to change the world? I’m driving down the freeway to work this morning, thinking about all this and the music blasts out, “Don Quixote rides again!” That’s me today. Don Quixote.

     Tilting at windmills. Setting the world on the straight and narrow. Prob’ly thinking I could set those hurricanes in Florida on the straight and narrow. Prob’ly thinking I could send the Padres straight to the playoffs. (I wrote “the World Series,” at first, but I erased it real quick - even I have my limitations). Prob’ly thinking I could get the straight story out of Bush and Kerry and all those reporters.

     So I was quite surprised last week when I got a note from my health insurance provider. A little pink postcard. Signed by the doctor himself. “If you’re going to miss your appointment you should call the office at least twenty-four hours in advance. It’s very rude and inconsiderate not to call. Don’t ever do that again.”

     Guess I’m going to have to explain. I forgot. If I’d known I was going to forget, I would’ve called. I would’ve said, “Use my time for someone else. I’m going to forget to come tomorrow.” I should have remembered. The appointment was changed three times – once by me, twice by the doctor – but that’s no excuse. There was just so much going on that week – I was getting ready to leave on vacation, trying to get five days ahead on my work, get the laundry done. Like I said, if I’d known I was going to forget, I sure would’ve called.

     I still haven’t called to reschedule my appointment yet. If there’s one thing I don’t like – it’s to be sat down and set on the straight and narrow.

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