more questions than answers

So, I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions of late.  They go like this…

Why did I think it was a good idea to write a 4oo page book? 

And, if I had good reasons for that, why did I wait to reread a single page until after all 400 pages were written (and realizing I didn’t remember a darn thing from page 1 to 250 to 400.  Why, yes, I did tell the same stories over and over again, knocking the page count back down so that I still have more pages to write)? 

Hmmm, is that the garland I bought for the front door still sitting on the table on our front porch?  Should we get that up before next week? 

Did Lola eat this morning?  Did I? 

Why do gray hairs always sprout in my part line, sticking straight up like bamboo shoots?

Why does our refrigerator look distinctly like my college refrigerator– that is to say that all you will find in there is milk, Coke, cheese, and hummus.  Not sure what I will eat the hummus with other than my finger.  Oh and there’s applesauce, too.  I’m thinking every single one of my family members would like me to go to the grocery store soon.