Why do the manufacturers of vitamins and vitamin supplements feel the need to make horse pills? Really, must they all be so gigantic? I feel like I should count my morning pills as a meal.
Why can't I lose weight in a logical manner? Why does it have to be lose three pounds, gain four, lose five, gain two? Why can't the numbers just descend in an orderly fashion? I'm getting cranky because I promised myself that when I got down to 140, I could have McDonald's french fries. Just once.
Why do manufacturers put high fructose corn syrup in EVERYTHING? It's in your barbeque sauce, your stewed tomatoes, your ketchup, your cookies, your canned fruit. Start reading labels. It's shocking. I've pretty much given up buying anything in a can or plastic container.
Why do I hate to exercise when I know how much better I feel when I do?
Why am I fixated on Sheryl Crowe's song Like Steve McQueen, going as far as to continually replay it in the car over and over and over again? Is it just for the line "I ain't taking shit off no-one, baby that was yesterday"?
Why can these retarded cats of mine sit next to each other in cages, eat off the same plate at the same time, play with each other through a door, yet turn into growling, hissing, spitting Tasmanian devils if they see each other on the loose?
Why am I sitting here thinking up more questions when I have like a million things to do today?
Sedona, Arizona, the hiking trail behind our hotel in early morning
Photo by Jason A Zwiker