An ode to… predictability
Published 7:34 am Friday, February 22, 2008
Are you convinced that Life is totally unpredictable? Do you wonder how you can plan ahead when you don’t know what potholes are on tomorrow’s agenda? Do you wallow in the “Slough of Despond” because there’s no certainty in the future?
Cheer up. You are about to enter the Halls of Total Predictability. ‘Tis possible to summon up an endless array of happenings that you can absolutely predict two centuries in advance without even consulting Nostradamus or the Delphian Oracle. There’s a whole caboodle of certainties out there in addition to death and taxes.
You can depend on it: the dread Alzheimers, (re: campaign promises) will strike down that politician the minute the family and pets are ensconced in the White House (this includes “NO NEW TAXES”).
You can be doubly certain that you will never find a baby-changing station in a men’s rest room. Nor will you ever find His Nibs wheeling a baby buggy or tackling the really smelly diaper. He may however make an occasional attempt to straighten his halo and pick up a few brownie points by gingerly approaching a slightly damp one.
Isn’t it wonderful to know for sure that any femme, when complimented on her garb of the day, designed by the latest Parisian couturier, will inevitably respond, “This old thing? I picked it up at a garage sale two years ago.”
Rely on it: the hostess who has spent 24 hours concocting an irresistibile dessert: “Oh I just whipped it up during my coffee break.”
Did you ever notice that when you join the shortest checkout line at the supermarket, the line is immediately usurped by someone with a fistful of coupons to redeem, three people tendering checks that need to be okayed by the manager (who just happens to be on coffee break) and that woman who has a toddler in dire need of elimnating something or other and she scurries off to the rest room to happify Junior, leaving the rest of the line in limbo while Junior egests whatever is disturbing him?
Likewise note: Salesperson trying to dispose of that old rag that’s been hanging on the rack for two years: “But dahling, it eez zee latest thing!”
You can take it for granted that the cleaning person’s son will come down with measles the day that Colin Powell is scheduled to drop by for lunch (it was a convenient stopover for him while on his way to the next peacekeeping mission which would be followed by all out blitzkrieg).
It’s as sure as the sun will set: “But Sweetheart, I didn’t forget our anniversary, I was just sort of waiting till the new crop of roses came in so I could get you some really fresh ones.”
And how about this scenario: The Lesser Seattle League, in hopes of fending off new population, has worked for decades to promote the myth that the city is underwater ninety percent of the time. Comes a visiting dignitary or sportscaster and the sun gives its allo the mountains glisten, the waters sparkle. They’ll do it every time.
In conclusion and you’d better believe it: There can be no doubt that a Man designed all those misplaced handles, doors and electrical outlets that abound in every household. May God be merciful to such as he! Because Woman never will.
Reinstate your faith in Predictability.
Mill Creek resident Jeri Condit’s column,“Trivial Pursuits,” appears the fourth Thursday of every month.
