I was at Big Lots at lunch and they had this item for sale:

OBAMA INAUGURAL LAVA LAMP. $26.00.

Let us recap: it is a lava lamp. With the president’s likeness on it.

That is all.

This morning I was well-prepared to buy a pair of baby shorts at Target for $3, but they rang up for FIFTY-NINE CENTS.

That’s all I have. Isn’t that enough?

Last night I heard Pete barfing in the hall. I got up to take care of it so no dogs or babies would step in it (or worse, eat it) in the morning. I went into the bathroom to get a wad of toilet paper to scoop it up with and that is when I had my genius idea: there was an old diaper laying on the floor of the bathroom, one that I took off right before he got into the tub, and one that had minimal damage (hence it laying on the bathroom floor). I then scooped up the cat puke, inserted it into the diaper, and considered myself a genius.

This morning I invented a wacky Laverne and Shirley-esque sitcom plot wherein Larry was to take a Spike poop sample to the doctor for analysis and instead grabbed the cat puke diaper, which would result in many frightening test results and calls to various child protective services agencies because we have been feeding our child Iams. And then at the end of our 22-minute ordeal when everything was resolved we would all laugh while Larry grabbed a handful of it and said, you know, this stuff’s not half bad!

That’s all. Carry on.

A few weeks ago I was reading “Procrustes and the Culture Wars,” an essay from the excellent At Large and At Small by Anne Fadiman. I thought I was fairly decent when it came to Greek mythology, but I’m pretty sure I never heard about Procrustes before. (Surely I would’ve at least remembered that awesome name.) Apparently he would snatch passing travelers and put them on a bed. If they were too tall for it, he’d saw off their limbs. Too short, he’d stretch them. Seriously. I would’ve remembered this.

Anyway, I read this, then the next day this was a word over on Word Journal.

All of this is to say that the more you learn, the bigger the world is. Or something. Anyway, Fadiman refers to this poem in her essay, which is actually not about Procrustes at all.

(Isn’t this enlightening? This blog post pretends to be about something, but is actually about nothing at all.)