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I used to be good at that. Experimenting, that is.

Cooking – my share of experiments included exploding cans of condensed milk.

Knitting – ah, the joy of missing a crucial instruction and starting over again.

Clothes – buying a size too small because I’ determined to be a size smaller.

Shoes – buying three-inch heels to beat the pavement.

Chem lab at school – nearly taking out the building.

Oh yes, I have a litany of failed experiments.

This morning I tripped over a pillow. One of those big rectangular “showy” pillows that sleep on the floor when I’m in bed.

It lives on the bed when I’m not in it.

It’s useless but pretty.

I pile it onto the bed, once made. Along with five others. Pretty Ones.

For effect.

If I count the pillows on the bed we use for sitting, reading, sleeping, (two for the dogs), there would be a total of twelve pillows/cushions between the four of us. Dogs are included.

It’s obvious.

I like pillows. So, do the dogs.

No problem.

The problem comes when half or more go to the floor when bedtime comes.

And they become snares waiting to trip you.

And falling on tiled floors ain’t funny.

And off when my mind.

How often do we surround ourselves with useless things?

Pretty but useless. Even dangerous.

Those friends.

The ones that offer fun and laughter.

And visits to “certain” places.

But will they be there to lend a helping hand when you slip and fall?

Cyber hugs and Blessings All.


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