I was having a hard time concentrating. You know, sometimes you can do some minor task, like painting a wall or walking the iguana or paying the bills, without a thought at all, until after you're done. Other times, the one thing that dominates your brain is that annoying song they play during final jeopardy. Trying to drive on today's roads alone is hell on wheels, without some constant thumping and banging in the back of your skull. Or even, as in my case, five feet behind it.
I stopped the car to investigate. After dodging a speeding Irvine bicycle gang, er, team, I stood behind the trunk. Finally, the thumping behind my skull was gone. Oh sure, the thumping in front of my skull was even louder than ever...
With an expectant yet hesitant movement of bewilderment, I opened the compartment. Like some varmint, with nary a comment, onto the pavement, did the Guru pounce. The feral grimace on the bruised mighty Meh Guru triggered some primal instinct within me. I retreated. He advanced. My back was against the car. I cried, 'MEH!"
The Guru leaped!
After my screams died down to whimpers, and those became sloppy choking noises, I opened my eyes, to see which organs were missing. Surprised, I was and relieved (down the left side of my Dockers) to see not bloody entrails but a piece of paper four inches, no, 10.2 centimeters, from my face. It was the Guru's shopping list.