Yeah, That’s Me 
     A couple days ago Hannah, one of our granddaughters, along with her boyfriend, Tommy, stopped by for a short visit, during which the subject of golf, broken windows, and stuff like that came up. 
     I mentioned that since living here I had picked up about 175 golf balls out of the yard and nearby rough. Of course the ones out of the rough are picked up after play is done for the day. I’ve been told that a club rule is that lost balls cannot be picked up while they’re still rolling. Go figure. 
     I explained to our visitors that when I was young I played golf with my two brothers. Green fees were bad enough, but having to buy balls was really painful, so finding a lost ball to add to our inventory was always a big deal. To this day, I feel as though I’ve won the lottery whenever I find a golf ball, even if I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with the thing. I do play golf, but haven’t done so for at least fifteen years. Figure that out. 
     So this morning I came into my office to write a little before having some breakfast, such as it was going to be. The first thing I noticed was a bright pink golf ball nestled under the juniper tree in the rough just across the fence and outside my office window. (The rough inside my office window is another matter.) I would look up every few minutes to check on my ball. Golfers came and went, my ball was still there. Maintenance people came and went, and my ball was still there. After about two hours of this I visualized myself as that squirrel in the movie, Ice Age. The one that’s fixated on acorns. I had to laugh, realizing I was not that different. 
    As you can see, my psychosis was brought on by my association with my two brothers. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. 
    Mid morning I had to run some errands. When I got back my ball had disappeared. It was probably taken by one of the old codgers who play this course. These guys will steal anything that’s not tied down. Well, at least lost golf balls. 
    Or maybe it’s ISIS just trying to aggravate me, again. (Long story there, but I’ll not burden you with it.) 
    It’s getting so you can’t trust anyone anymore.