A Shaving Lesson from Occam

On Tuesday evening, I headed back to school to pick up The Pony from his last regularly-scheduled academic meet. I stopped by the pharmacy to grab some crutch toppers for Hick. He's worth $4.85, don't you think? For entertainment value alone. I know you're thinking, "Well, that must be the gift you give somebody who has everything." Or else you're thinking we're an odd family. That may be. But in case you've forgotten, or in the unlikely event that I kept some personal information to myself...Hick had knee surgery on Tuesday. He used the old crutches with crumbly armpit rubbers that have been hanging on a nail in the garage since his other knee surgery four years ago. No, he's not a professional athlete. More of a chicken kicker. From when he had his flock of seventeen roosters and three hens.

Now where was I...oh, the trip to town. I pulled out on some lesser-used back roads to avoid the Backroads rush hour traffic. A small, dark SUV in front of me kept veering across the center crack. We don't have center lines out here on these town roads. I followed at a safe distance. I assumed that the driver was texting a significant other on the way home. Perhaps seeing if she should pick up something for dinner.

Just my luck, that SUV turned up the street I was using as a connecting route to reach my main road. Again with the swerving. Then it signaled a left turn. Directly into the lane for the drive-up window at a mom-and-pop liquor store.

When you hear hoofbeats, think horses. Not zebras.