I Have The Power.

Any Sheep knows that there are things she can control and things over which no amount of will she exerts will lead to change. This is is good information to have what with the need to remain sane and functioning.

For example, being stuck on the Maine Turnpike for half an hour this morning along with umpty-gajillion of my fellow commuters while the authorities dealt with a somewhat nasty accident is something that is beyond my control. Now, the average Mainer does not have a working knowledge of "gridlock." It is beyond our ken. We get in our cars, we go places. We complain about lengthy waits at stop signs. We become completely flummoxed in the face of non-moving traffic. We also don't have Ikea...but that's another level of cultural confusion and not really relevant here.

Now, I could have joined some of my fellow motorists and departed my vehicle to wander amongst the bumpers and make friends. But this seemed inadvisable. I could have followed the stellar example of several of my comrades and attempted to drive in reverse for three miles, thus extricating myself from the tangle. I saw several potential problems with this given that I, myself, was nearly struck by several cars showily pulling off this maneuver.

No. It was best to simply accept that I had no control over this situation, turn off the engine and catch up on reading my mail. There was a lovely brochure from my plastic surgeon detailing all the other services of which I could avail myself during my upcoming mole removal which I read with interest. Of course, I had to read it from my left side so that my cheek mole couldn't see. I haven't broken the news to it yet and I don't know how it is going to feel about it's upcoming change of locale. The time passed, traffic eventually began to move and there was little to no stress involved.

There are, however, things over which I do have control. And God help you should you be one of those things and make the ill-fated decision to not bend to my will. There will be consequences:

Tough Love For Socks.

It had to be done. It would not behave. It developed a gaping hole with no apparent cause. I suspected a dropped stitch. However, after counting, I seemed to have more than when I started. I tried to reason with it. I explained the difference between "master" and "garment." It kept giving me 'tude. It shouldn't have messed with me. I am the Almighty Sheep.

And I smote it.

SA