Walking Stick Accident

I was in such a hurry to get to the kitchen yesterday afternoon, when Rebel and I returned from a trip to the supermarket (which had been preceded by a stop at the voting polls), that I must have accidentally knocked a walking stick into the house when I opened the front door. My cats Mark Twain and Quentin informed me of the accident, when I saw them examining the poor creature, which was stunned and lying on its back by the door. I picked it up gently and took it outside. The walking stick appeared to be okay.

I had been oblivious to the presence of the walking stick because I needed to wash my hands, gargle with some salt water, and take 28 drops of echinacea immediately, before even thinking about unloading my groceries. I had been slightly unnerved, you see, hearing the conversation between the cashier and another employee at the supermarket. Apparently, the cashier had been absent from work because she had been taking care of her sister, who had the swine flu. I would have preferred not to have heard that conversation, even though the cashier appeared to be perfectly healthy. Some things ought to remain private, and that was certainly one of them.

I thought it was interesting that little sticks were being given to the voters to use inside the voting booths, as a preventive measure against the swine flu. Great idea, only everybody's hands went inside the glass container to pick up the individual sticks. By the way, I do not know whether the salt water and echinacea help in flu prevention, but I figure they can't hurt.