It Starts With Losing Your Keys

 I haven't seen my car keys since Christmas and a while ago I had new copies made, so that's alright. I've been meaning to tell you that I may not know much about much ("I don't know nothin' bout nothin' at all"), but at least I can tell the difference between the moon and a Burger King sign, but this morning on the way to work the moon was so large, and so low, that for a second I thought it was a Burger King sign, but then I thought, "Why would Burger King open a restaurant in my back yard?" but they must have asked themselves the same question I guess, because they hadn't, it was just the moon.
You may be surprised to hear that I was going to work at all, what with the holiday, and so was my supervisor, especially since I had signed up for Tuesday off, which I hadn't remembered at all, even though it kind of made sense since it would have given me a five day weekend, except for going to work today.
I listened to a story the other day, The Swimmer, by John Cheever. I'd never read it before. It can be taken as a metaphor for aging and loss, although since aging and loss are so universally inevitable, I'm not sure we require a metaphor for them so much as a way to avoid them. A story I read a long time ago, Take Five, by D. Keith Mano, was a lot less obliquely metaphorical, and for me summed up life with one of the best lines in all of literature, "Just what the proctologist ordered."