Why I Learned to Type

Because my swivel chair at the office does not require that I start my day by having to breathe into a paper bag, as would this:

Remember the pine tree in my last post that played chicken with the bolt of lightning and lost?


Its last (and only) act of kindness to me was providing entertainment for me and my 40D today.


And tomorrow when I'm selling pump impellers and o-rings from the comfort of my swivel chair, with my feet planted firmly on the floor, I'll raise a hand in salute to these fellas:

To all you other pine trees out there, let this be a lesson to you.

Footnote:


Behold, the sacrificial crepe myrtle:

Bless its heart.  It had finally come back from the dead due to an unfortunate "transplant in the middle of the summer" incident from last year.

May it rest in peace.