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Just Loose


I don’t know about you, but as my forties roar on, my glasses are getting thicker, my body parts are growing wider and closer to the floor, and my hobbies more eccentric (according to my kids my dust collection is going to get me a Nobel prize for eccentricity or at least a one-way ticket to a commitment hearing).

It’s tragic.  Really.

So you’ll forgive me for being tempted, when, haphazardly choosing a writing group pledge pin with text and graphics that were only contrasty enough for my deteriorating eyes to read the word ‘Loose’ in the dim light, I felt compelled to  tell everyone I met that day that I’m loose.

In all fairness there was a cannon on the button (Loose Cannon), but it was too late by the time I saw it.

Because I really am loose.

My hair and clothes are loose – especially where the top button of my jeans is.  My job is even looser – I work in an online chatroom.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  You’re wondering if all those people clicking online after a racy late night TV chat ad on late night TV know that the naughty typist on the other end of the line is really a sea monster?  I’m going to stick up for the ad clickers and guess that they have some idea, but they’re not chatting with this one.

Before I force anyone to google the email for the Society for Internet Decency and Niceness, perhaps I should explain that, while I’m great at pushing buttons, I’m actually your friendly neighborhood tech support sea monster.  As I’m sure you’re aware, the list of things that sound dirty but aren’t is exhaustive:

1. Can I watch (when seeing what’s going on with a user’s software)?

2. Can you restart your iPad?

Okay, not that many things.  But I can dream.

And I need to dream.  Heck, we all need to dream, to have that chance to be shot at the stars. And to dream, I need to keep it loose.