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Students added to Wyoming Valley West High School Honor Roll

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Our View: States are limiting voters’ will, and it’s downright un-American

<p>My mind is lost, and circuitous confusion has been found.</p><p>I think I wrote about this before, (and that&#8217;s the problem, I can&#8217;t remember) but this combined conundrum within my brain is proving to be a stubborn force, and it&#8217;s gotten so much more challenging lately that it&#8217;s affecting my tiny, little life in tiny, little ways. I scramble daily to find the correct words for a multitude of vocabulary applications, try to remember where my Preparation H is and what it&#8217;s used for, and can never remember my age, but more times than not, I am stymied.</p><p>Please engrave that on my urn when I die: She Was Perpetually Stymied.</p><p>The latest brain fart: I grabbed someone else&#8217;s cart while gallivanting through The Mart yesterday. My brain is so scrambled, I didn&#8217;t realize the cart was not mine until I got to the checkout. I apparently assumed I stepped into an alternate universe where I&#8217;d wear Grinch pajama pants, three push-up bras and a box of feminine hygiene products I haven&#8217;t needed since 2013. That poor sap who has my cart is going to have a seizure when she checks out my Benefiber, MiraLAX, calcium tablets, Depends and four bottles of Advil PM. Sigh. I abandoned the misappropriated goods, flung myself outside and spent the next 25 minutes trying to find my car. It had evaporated. I&#8217;d been carjacked! I called Nancy, apoplectic, and he responded calmly: &#8220;Maria. You took my car today.&#8221; Heh. That&#8217;s right! Silly, silly blonde Maria.</p><p>Last week, one of my dogs left a spot on my white comforter. You know what I mean: a skid mark. So disgusting. So, I yanked it (the comforter, not the dog) off the bed and flew to the laundromat. I&#8217;ve honestly not been to a laundromat since college, and that was only to &#8220;borrow&#8221; a cart with which I made my friend push me home from a party. Good times.</p><p>At any rate, I threw in a quart of detergent, deposited roughly $43 in quarters into the hungry slots and pushed start. There it goes! Round and round and&#8230;what the hell? There was no water. I picked the one broken washer in the whole joint. I looked around in disgust for someone with whom I could share my annoyance. A lovely older man toddled over to me and said, almost sadly, &#8220;Oh, honey. That right there is a dryer. Not a washer. A dryer.&#8221; My God. Apologies to whomever caught that dryer, post-Maria. I&#8217;m so sorry there was Tide marbling your clean clothes. On the plus side, whomever tagged it got three hours of free drying time.</p><p>Then came the worst episode of befuddlement yet, and the one which upset me so much, I cried. I lost my wedding band and it has broken my heart. (I told you I had one). Nancy and I picked it out when we were poor pre-newlyweds, living in California. We purchased it for $85 on layaway in a second-hand store in Sepulveda and I cherished it. It&#8217;s gone, like my gray matter. And thank God Nancy doesn&#8217;t read this column because I haven&#8217;t told him yet. DO NOT TELL HIM! I must wait for the right time and it involves beer, football and chicken wings.</p><p>Dear Santa: I&#8217;ve been sort-of good this year. Okay. Not at all good. But all I want for Christmas is a new cerebellum. Surely you owe me from Christmas 1974 when all I received was a birdhouse, underwear and a box of Band-Aids. Just leave it under the tree, next to the Preparation H. Thanks.</p><style>
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<div class="metaInfo"><bylineMeta><p>Life Deconstructed</p><p>Maria Jiunta Heck</p></bylineMeta></div><div class="metaInfo"><shirttailMeta><p>Maria Jiunta Heck, of West Pittston, is a mother of three and a business owner who lives to dissect the minutiae of life. Send Maria an email at mariajh40@msn.com.</p></shirttailMeta></div>

Life Deconstructed: Where, oh where, has my cerebellum gone?