The Art of Listening

I’ve noticed something about myself. I’ve become acutely adept at giving the illusion that I’m listening when I’m not listening at all. I’ll look somebody straight in the eyes, and focus real hard, and not hear a word that they’re saying.
                A week or two will pass and someone will mention a conversation we had and I’ll have no idea what they’re talking about. To my surprise, they’ll reveal to me that I agreed to attend a recital or a dinner party, and with some trepidation I’ll have to capitulate to their demands. I want to listen, but sometimes being the listener is more difficult than it seems.

                I’m attending a cello recital tomorrow. Don’t ask me, I wasn’t listening. 

Pajamas, Tops and Bottoms

I’m thinking about inventing pajama bottoms to look like dress pants; that way I won’t have to change in the morning if I need to go outside.

Having to change from pajamas to pants is an unfortunate sequence of events in my estimation. I ask myself, is going outside absolutely necessary? If the answer is yes, I begrudgingly change out of my pajamas and into my pants.

If my pajamas looked more like pants I wouldn’t have to sacrifice comfort for social standing; it would be all-inclusive.

               While I’m at it, I might as well invent pajamas tops to look like dress shirts. Or if I really want to knock the socks off my neighbors, I could invent a pajama top to look like a tuxedo shirt and bow tie.