Light winds have been blowing all day, shimmering the scenery, upending my reflection, piling up photons in the corners of every room.  It is difficult to type with an upended reflection, but I shall do my best to nail down the apparent details of a very strange day with 2-penny thoughts and ball-peen keyboard lest they get blown into my neighbor's house or car and I get sued for negligence....

     I found my new winter coat today.  Hanging in my closet, of all places.  I bought it - oh, I don't know.  Last spring, I guess.  Maybe 18 months ago.  I did not think to search for it last fall.  I only found it today by accident as I ducked into my closet in hopes of finding nothing more than  a bit of relief from the light winds whipping through my unharvestable visual fields.  Now I must wait until next winter to wear my new coat.  
     If I can remember it then.  
     If I have occasion to go outside between next November and next March....

     While standing in my closet, mouth ajar at the re-discovery of my coat, I had several realizations.
     I realized that while I like blue and red equally well, I dislike red more.  That is to say, blue is always kewl, but red - red is sometimes dangerous.  I like it as well as blue anyway, against my better judgment.  Tsk tsk. 
     I also realized that I'm right-handed.  This wasn't the first time I've realized this, of course, but it suddenly seemed just as odd a fact of life as it did when I first realized that I have much better control of my right hand than I do of my left.  Why should I have better control of my right hand than my left?  It seems so arbitrary, unpredictable, and inefficient.  And it makes me wonder if the control I have over even my right might not be the last word in control.  What if I could acquire a third hand which would be to my right hand what my right hand is to my left in terms of control and dexterity?  What undreamt of worlds of physical manipulation might loom over even that distant, 15-fingered  horizon?
     Once I stopped sighing, I further realized why I might not have noticed that I had lost a third of a tooth sometime between my visit to a dentist last week and my last visit to the same dentist 3 years ago.  The way I see it, aliens must have come in the night to abduct my body while it slept.  They took one look at me and decided I'd be easier to transport across the galaxy in pieces.  After grunting and straining for untold hours just to get a third of a tooth, they gave up.  Thank goodness they picked a tooth with a heavy filling in it!  Had they slowly built up their stamina by starting with those baby teeth I've refused to spit out of my mouth for sentimental reasons, I might now be typing this from inside a giant test tube.

     I might have realized even more had I not chosen to leave my closet at this point.  Even a man who has successfully resisted alien abduction has to sometimes relieve himself, after all, and I know from experience that new winter coats and closets are not the best possible means to that particular end.  Apparently a gravesite is, but after a thorough search of the house failed to uncover anything of the sort, I settled for my bathroom.
     According to veteran Time magazine reporter Hugh Sidey, President Lyndon Johnson was luckier when he had to go.  According to Sidey, Johnson took him out to the graves where he and Lady Bird were to be buried, then peed in them. 
     Talk about being in the right place at the right time.... 

     Which reminds me - I have an important message I need to post.  Be right back.
 

     I learned that story about President Johnson by reading Parade Magazine last Sunday.
     I learned that Judy Garland slept with Yul Brynner by reading the March 27 issue of Newsweek today.
     I can tell Parade from Newsweek (and both from Time) because they have different names.
     Anyway, can YOU see the King of Siam in bed with Dorothy??

     Excuse me, but there's a closet I think I need to get back into.
     Fast!