And today...

And today real life intervenes, meaning laundry, dishes, cutting 60 nails that are not my own. I'm not complaining. I really enjoy doing the mundane things. As long as my hands are busy, my mind can work overtime. As a child, I used to bounce a tennis ball for hours while thinking up complex storylines involving bizarre characters. Nothing like a tennis ball to open up the lines for contemplation and reflection. This was a welcome change from all of those hours sitting in the closet with my uncle's "Savage Sword of Conan" comic, wondering why parts of me throbbed during the admittedly tame hot parts. I kept the hobby of ball-bouncing well into my teens; the SSOC habit was dropped much earlier, I'm afraid.

Now that I think back on it, I was a pretty weird young 'un. I would go into black study for a few minutes, simply staring into space with a depressed look on my face. My favorite uncle (who is 7 years older than I) would give me a shake and tell me to wake up. He later admitted that this scared him, especially since I was only about 3 when it started. Perhaps this was my early attempt at the ball-bouncing thing.

Anyway, this is relevant because today I found an old tennis ball belonging to the aforementioned uncle. Somehow the tennis ball ended up under the sofa. Guess what happened next? I hid it, just in case.