Irrelevant Cheetah

As I was leaving work last night, I stopped in the bathroom to wash my hands. I looked into the mirror and glimpsed something out of place in my hair. With a little digging, I managed to dislodge and identify it. It was a pine needle – one that had definitely not been there before.

When I discovered it and began wondering about its origins, I first thought what any normal person would think: “Hmm. I must have been abducted by aliens, taken to an area rich in coniferous growth, probed, had my memory altered, and then brought back to the office.”

There are a few flaws in this hypothesis, however, not the least of which was that, upon further reflection, I determined that I did not have any episodes of ‘missing time.’ I had a twenty-minute span that was sort of fuzzy, but that also coincided with my boss talking to me about third quarter projections and so forth, so that could be explained away.

So, after more serious thought, I think I have discovered the only reasonable explanation for the pine needle in my hair:

I’m obviously turning into a tree.

There have been, as yet, no further symptoms, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before bark starts to grow on my fingers and I start losing the will (and ability) to move from a certain spot. I can only hope that I choose a spot that has a nice Southern exposure and decent wireless access.

I’m aware that it’s not going to be comfortable. It’s going to be hard to type, and it probably won’t be long before I start developing an irrational fear of axes and Christmas tree lights. Nevertheless, I intend to chronicle faithfully my transformation into Pinus Monticola for your amusement and edification. Please excuse any typos that will inevitably be cropping up, as I lose feeling in my limbs (ha! I said limbs!) and start dropping pinecones onto the keyboard.

And please, before you buy a Christmas tree this year, find out where it came from, would you?