She looked back at me and kindly asked me to turn off that water. It was not her intention to wet her coat. That beautiful black, brown and white fur of which she is so proud does not smell nice when wet.
Well, I told her, I can't stop the rain.
Humph! She answered, and made her way down the stairs with raindrops falling in her world.
So that got me to thinking about what else I can't do. I can't change the amount they put in 12 ounce cans, and I would like to be able to. What about all those times when I am at a 13 ounce thirst level? What am I supposed to do then? Bust into a whole 'nother soda and pour out the other 11 ounces? Talk about waste. I couldn't even mail it to some thirsty person because by the time they got it, it would be flat and lifeless.
I can't change the color of the sky when it rains. I mean, who picked gray? Gray is an indecisive color. It's always asking if it should be black or white and ends up being in-between. It's unsettling for everyone outside taking their dog for a potty run. When we look up, all we see is an ambiguous, non-color formed gray.
And what about skunks? Aren't they like the cutest animal, ever? Watch one waddle on those four tiny legs, with the thick batch of fur, and the white racing stripes, and tell me you don't want one. If, that is, it weren't for their whole stink issue. Another thing I can't change.
(Someone out there is going to ramble on about skunk stink removal operations, but I'm not going to go around de-flowering skunks. They have their protective ego thing, and I have mine. Let's leave it at that.)
There has got to be one thing I can change with out missing up the grand scheme of things. Oh, I can go see the last of the Hobbit trilogies tonight and finally change my status of not knowing how they end the series. Well, that puts me back into control of my universe.
Thank you, oh heavens that be, for a smidgen of something I can stop.