Worried Man Sings a Worried Song

Nowadays there’s enough to worry about to ensure sleepless nights for a month of Sundays. There’s terrorism, there’s healthcare, there’s the economy, and of course there’s the fact that my University of Texas Longhorns lost seven games this past season. It’s a lot to swallow.

So I apologize for lengthening the list, but a couple of things that aren’t making news headlines are really worrying me, and I’m guessing I’m not alone. Here’s what’s on my mind and possibly yours as well:

Starting back in the 1960s, electrical outlets had to be grounded, so little green wires became commonplace. Now, I’m all for safety. Once in a while I pull some boneheaded trick that ought to light me up like a Christmas tree, but thanks to grounding I live on to write another column for the Register. All well and good. However, a recent PBS program taught me about The Law of Conservation of Energy. According to PBS, the electricity that should have sent me to glory doesn’t simply disappear; it has to go somewhere. It goes into the ground. Hence the term. My fear is that I’ve electrified my property to capacity.

Early last spring just such an incident occurred, and shortly thereafter the grass started growing like crazy and turned bright green. Electric green one might say. And, of course, it needed mowing. When I got out there with my Toro and contemplated running over what was now, in essence, an electrical field with my hands on a steel machine, it gave me pause. I put on rubber gloves and galoshes to cut the yard. It occurred to me that if other homeowners have made similar mistakes it may no longer be safe to send kids outside to play. Lassie might come to the door one day with a look on her face that says, “Well, we might just as well eat dinner. Little Timmy is toast.”

Another thing I learned during that PBS show is that mass cannot be created or destroyed. This big idea comes to us courtesy of Antoine Lavoisier, who was French and therefore, logically, a pain in the butt. This law (The Principle of Mass Conservation) quite naturally started me thinking about socks. Over the years I’ve run thousands of loads of laundry that produced unmatched socks. I think my record was seven in one load.

Anyway, I now realize that, according to Monsieur Lavoisier, all their mates still exist. They didn’t go off to sock heaven. Any day now I might open a long-neglected drawer and be rendered senseless by the odor of thousands of unwashed socks. Phew! Just thinking about that gives me the willies. Thanks a lot, Frenchie.

You know, I’m seeing something here. It’s not murder, starvation, illegal immigration, or economic ruin that gets me all upset. It’s those darn PBS educational shows. I think I’ll just go back to watching the evening news. M