Whirlygigs

I read somewhere that it takes an intelligent person to do assembly line work. It has something to do with being able to focus on your task at hand and yet not get caught in the monotony of it all. You know, kind of like walking and chewing gum at the same time. An assembly line person should be able to get their job done well, while at the same time being able to think about or talk about other things so their mind doesn't turn to mush. Get it?

So does the same hold true for motherhood? Like when you are outside for the umpteenth time in a week calming your sad, sick baby and you need to think of something other than the spit up on your shirt and the laundry that needs to be folded. Your mind wanders. To the whirlygigs on the top of all your neighbors roofs. And then, because you don't know what they really are, you make up a story about what they are, why some people's are shinier and spinnier than others, and what, in fact, they are for.

• My immediate neighbor has old, rusty looking whirlygigs. One kind of spun a little during my half hour stroll. Nothing exciting was going on there. She kind of lives an old, rusty life. Nothing interesting to be learned from her one person abode.
• My neighbor across the street has various types of whirlygigs, and I believe has 3 instead of the standard 2. They are renters. People are always coming and going and you never know who is going to be there. There has to be a variety of whirlygigs...just in case. One of them was moving off and on.
• The Norwegian neighbors have bran new, shiny whirlygigs. They were spinning like crazy. There is a lot of information to be intercepted from that house.
• Bob has 2 whirly gigs. They are very prominent. He has covered them with black plastic bags. Apparently black plastic interferes with the reception.

Have you figured out my story yet? It's a conspiracy theory. The whirlygig is the governments way of spying on it's citizens and gathering information. Forget the Internet, credit card transactions, phone records...they go straight to where it all goes down...the home. We all know that the home is where all the learning takes place, so that's where the government wants it's eyes and ears.

I'm so silly. Don't talk ill of me. Don't think I'm a fruitcake. I'm just messing around here to prove that I would be able to handle an assembly line job. Doesn't it take sheer intelligence to concoct a goofy story like that? Intelligence or boredom? I'm pretty sure it's the latter. Maybe Bill will have me committed soon. Please come visit on the weekends.

What I find most interesting is this:

We have no whirlygigs on our roof.

(I had them removed)

(Shh...don't tell)