You make bath time lots of fun

You never stopped to think about it, did you?

Just a toy for your child, a plaything. Cheap, plastic, made overseas. Your toy shop carries many similar toys, sold in bargain bins by the hundreds, all of their myriad varieties. You can even impulse-buy one on your way out of the store. Suitable for the smallest youngsters; too large to be swallowed or a choking hazard, soft enough to offer no threat of injury. Rubber Duckies are a bath-time staple, have been for many decades.

But you never stopped to consider if “waterproof” means we can’t be drowned.

Inspired by this photo plus my sick mind. And Ernie, o’course.

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You most likely don’t remember Flip Wilson

“So take the deal,” the Devil offered.

“Let me think about it for a while first,” I stalled for time.

When the Devil offers a deal of this nature, it never comes without strings. That has always been my experience.

But it’s impossible to want nothing. There’s always some way you could grow, something more you could learn, something new to experience. Inertia is only acceptance that you’ve reached a dead end. Safe and Boring.

And this is how the Devil reaps his income. “Here’s how your life could change,” he says. “It’s so damned (if you’ll pardon the expression) easy.”

All the Devil does is sell Short Cuts. Here’s a way to get from A to Z, without fooling around with all of those pesky letters between.

Most awful of all is dithering. Unable to take the leap, you stick your toes in the water, sure that it must be freezing in cold in there. You could take the plunge, adapt to the water, and learn to swim in it. But that requires that leap of faith, decisiveness. Sit at the edge of the pool instead, test the water, afraid to take the plunge.

If you want your life to change, there really isn’t any choice, is there?

“Where’s the pen?” I asked, and the Devil laughed.

The Devil Made Me Do It

(Looks like the daily prompt pingbacks won’t be working again.)

Which do you find more dangerous: wanting nothing, or wanting everything?

My evolving pretentions morning brain dump

Isn’t it weird how these things evolve?

I started the Parkinkspot as a little bit of therapy, just something that seemed kind of fun to do. I’ve always enjoyed writing, at least back when I was in school I enjoyed it quite a bit.

>insert 30 plus years of “real life” and press the “fast forward” button<

And I still do! Surprise!

Now here we are, Annie and I raised a son, he moved out, I had a stroke…yes really, I was extraordinarily lucky. And here I am, working on my next Hobby. Enjoying the hell out of it. Showing signs of Author pretentions, even. What the Hell Dave?

Well, I guess I’m following a passion, or at least teasing around at one. I’m not sure that I can write anything that’s worth money to somebody. But it sure is fun to nibble around the edges of that idea.

Part of the issue is a full time job, my physical health, my degrading body (versus computer chairs, which tend to make it unhappy, and general wear and tear).

I’m collecting stories for god’s sake, under (I think) a sort of vague notion of self-publishing a collection some day/one day/soonish even? The idea being that even a little trickle of income would encourage me to some day write, I don’t know, can I write novels? Would I still be having fun if I did?

But I find myself, while at work, thinking instead about what I’ll write next. Wishing for the next day off, when I can sit down and write more…those days when I’m happiest. I feel like I am in a rush to get there, though.

Is he delusional? Will this-weeks-hobby pale over time? Is he incapable of writing anything profitable? Is he nothing but another amateur dabbler with big big plans and no talent?

Hell, I don’t know. Guess we’ll find all of that out if we hang around the ParkInkSpot long enough. Stay tuned.

(He writes way more words about himself than anything else, at this point. Shut up, you egotistical narcissist!!)