Vinceland

Why is everything such a pain in the ass?
Why is everything such a pain in my ass?
Why, when I got to (finally) clean the garbage out of my car, is the last piece of paper just out of reach from the curb side?
Why, when I step off the curb to get a better angle to grab stuff, does my foot slide into a rivulet of dirty water, soaking my socks?
Why, when I bend over to pick up the garbage out of my car, does the rain fall into the back of my pants, and down deeper in my butt?
Why, when I try to grab all of the crap out of the floor of my car (finally) does something fall out of something else onto the floor and out of reach?
Why are things just a little harder than I wish they were?
Why, when I decide to tear up a piece of mail, because I should not have been sent this junk in the first place, do I have to remember to throw it out, so it does not sit on the table and get me in trouble tomorrow?
Why are the every day, every week, every month and every year things worth doing harder to do than not to do?
Why does rain fall in my butt?
Why do our dogs make things harder for us, even though we strive to make things as easy as possible for them throughout their lives?
Why is it difficult to keep in touch?
Why should we feel like taking a vacation from life?
Why do my toes itch so?
Why is it impossible for me to do ballet, like the weightless men in “The Nutcracker”?
Why do I have to go to the store to buy things I need to live?
Why do dust bunnies exist? And why do they grow so incessantly?
Why is really want-able stuff more expensive than decent stuff?
Why do we want some of what other people have?
Why in hell do things break down?
Why do other things linger? Bad, bad things?
Why can’t I go play golf tomorrow, in nice weather?
Why can’t we be totally comfortable, in our own home, regardless of the weather?
Why can’t things turn themselves off when I don’t want them on?
Why can’t I play amazing music, as loud as I want, to my heart’s content?
Why must I cut my hair, clean it out of the drain and use deoderant (with anti-perspirant)?
Why must our laundry never, ever be finished. Ever? Ever. We’re only two.
Why did rain fall in my butt?
Why do things fall down and out, away from our hands?
Why do lights burn out?
Why does beauty fade?
Why does stuff get dirtier, all by it’s lonesome?
Why did I sell my motorcycle?
Why are airports and airplanes and air people and air tickets simply no fun to be a part of?
Why is bad food so good?
Why do things we need, like water, heat, electricity and (intermittent) cellular service, cost money, at all? We need them, like air.
Why does it eventually hurt to just sit still?
Why do thank-you notes need to be sent?
Why are there things I may never know?
Why are there things we may never know?
Why do cells die?
Why don’t people understand?
Why don’t people just believe?
Why do I get itchy in more than two spots at once, obviously one or more spots just out of a simple reach?
Why is good work hard?
Why are all of my pants the wrong length?
Why does the mailperson refuse to take mail back that is not ours? It’s not our mail.
Why is the warm part of my bed spread squeezed out to the corners and edges?
Why did it rain in my butt?