If you remember the old Pepe le Pew cartoons, you probably recall how, after running away from something or someone, he would pause, wipe his brow with his tail, and gasp "Le puff, le pant." Well, that is how I feel. Or maybe Sisyphus is a better analogy, because I never seem to get ahead. If I delete 30 emails to get my in box down below the threshhold where the You Are a Very Bad Person Whose Mailbox Is Over Limit message is generated, 35 new emails will come in. If I turn my back on a stack of papers that I am sorting, I swear the damn things procreate, and the pile is bigger when I get back to it. If I solve a problem for a customer, two more customers will call me with problems. My to-do list never gets any shorter.

Then there's the housework stuff. You expect dust bunnies to reproduce, but what are the towels doing in the dirty clothes basket? Do I need to move them into the light, or should I shelter my innocent little socks from towel sex? No, wait, socks don't need to be sheltered. Not only are they asexual, they apparently kill their young. I seldom get back all the socks I put into the load of laundry. And in a variant of the Wash the Car to Make it Rain trick, I have discovered that if you bend over the flower beds and pull weeds until you can barely stand up straight, you have just created an environment for a whole set of new weedsto thrive.

But I did accomplish one rare thing over the weekend: I made my 16 year old grandson, Skater Dude, laugh. The tv was tuned to a drag race, and all you could see in the closeup of the driver was beautiful eyes.

Skater Dude: There's a girl driving --- or is it just a very pretty guy?

Mitey Mite & Dolphin in unison: A guy wearing eye shadow?

Mitey Mite : Well, they DO call it a drag race.