Know Your Limitations…an Introspective


For the record, I’ve always been a man who knew his limits. Oh yes, that information was relayed from my addled brain and delivered to the muscles activating and utilizing the mouth and vocal chords.  Sadly, the mouth and vocal chords have been in a nasty contract dispute with my brain so refused to obey the orders.  Unfortunately my brain, mouth and vocal chords all have the same agent so it appears as though nothing will be done to alleviate the situation.


This condition is nothing new to me.  I remember years back when my mother had a little Chihuahua that had gotten lost out in the snow, late at night, during a snowstorm.  I, as a college student living at home, was in my natural habitat and most suitable position…fast asleep in bed. Well, my mother woke me up and, believing the little pooch was frozen to death out in the vast wilderness of the suburban neighborhood in which we lived, told me to go out and bring his little poochcicle body home.  Here’s where my limits come into play.

Dinosaur             While not legally blind, I do require glasses in order to see anything with any detail.  To attempt to clarify that statement, my vision is not entirely unlike that of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Like Rexy, my vision is based almost entirely on movement.  So there I am, outside in the middle of the night, without a coat (the limitation there was that as a college student I was dumber than hell), and without my glasses (having left them in my bedroom and was entirely too lazy to go get them), outside during a snowstorm, looking for an ex-Chihuahua.



Despite the overwhelming odds, I saw the little guy. Not only was he still breathing and prancing through the snow like a rat on Ecstasy. I called out to him and he obediently ignored me. I took steps toward him and he started to run away further. I must have chased that little dog up and down the street for a half hour. Naturally, I lost him. I went traipsing through the snow trying to find the little stinker, but to no avail.


Frozen Dog    So there I was, returning home and rehearsing the words I would use to explain to my mother that her cute and cuddly little fuzzball was no more. How do you do that exactly? “Hey Mom, my it’s nice and warm in here, dog’s dead, and oh that is a lovely piece of art on the wall.” No, that wouldn’t work…use the old army joke…’All those with a dog that’s alive and well take one step forward…stay there, Mom.” No, that wouldn’t work either.


I walk into the house, looking dejected and defeated (a look that I have mastered without any acting effort throughout the years). There is Mom, in her comfy chair, holding the dog that had apparently returned not five minutes after I left to go look for him.  It was then that I looked at the dog squarely in the face. He smiled…no, honestly, I didn’t think a dog could do that and not appear menacing, but yes, the damn thing smiled at me. I’m quite sure if he had had a middle finger he would have extended it in my general direction.


So, yes, I hear you. Major plot hole in my story. What the heck was I chasing out there? The timeline of his return does not jive with you out in the snow doing an abominable snowman impression.  Well there is an answer. For it was not until the next day that I, replete with glasses on, went out to get the newspaper (kids today…a newspaper was an actual collection of paper that had writing on it that communicated news that was already a day old…it predated anything electronic that supplied news the second it happens) that I saw the very brown thing I had been chasing. It was sitting near a tree and appeared to be laughing at me. Yes, it was a little brown rabbit that I had been chasing throughout the night. And yes, it was a rascally rabbit.


Dog and Bunny           I can’t watch the Cadbury chocolate Easter Eggs commercial to this day without convulsing, almost swallowing my tongue and pissing myself…on second thought, maybe I should get that checked out. Anyway, the point is to know your limitations. In my case, my limitations are near blindness, a terrible back, and a mild to moderate case of stupidity.


What are yours?


Until next time,


Be Good or Be Good At It!



Published by Alan Reese

Greetings blog wanderers and seekers of truth, or whatever truth appears to be from the mind of a warped individual. You have reached the inner sanctum of some guy named Alan. Having graduated college sometime shortly after the Earth cooled, he finds himself in his late 30's and working out in the real world. His humor is dry and his outlook not so serious and somehow has picked up the nasty habit of writing about himself in the third person. He is married with child and loves his family, sports and, of course, his beloved video games...likelihood of his growing up? Not good. Are you an established site or magazine looking for a writer? Drop me a line if you are interested.

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