Remember the Seinfeld episode where Jerry can’t read the note/joke he scribbled down and he knows it’s brilliant but now he’s tortured by his own penmanship?

The notes on the phone were supposed to change that.

Typing is so much better than writing, at least when it comes to readability in the future (and searchability, and several other factors that aren’t what this post is supposed to be about).

But typing will get you, too.

Autocorrect is a monster. And your own thumbs? They are the enemy. Or, at least, they can be. Mine certainly are lately.

I went to my notes to see what I’ve noted this morning and found, “For to the garbage can.”

I don’t even know what I was going for. Not even a little.

Garbage can… what garbage can? Which garbage can? WHY GARBAGE CAN WHY(?!)?

I wrote it while traveling, possibly even vacationing, and I have zero recollection on what it was in reference to.

I can read it, sure, but can I explain it? I mean - I’m here trying.

I don’t think I’m succeeding.

It sounds almost like… poetry?

But I wasn’t in a poetry mood. Of that I am certain. I had nothing going on that was making me feel poetic.

Well, there was this,

But you KNOW this has nothing to do with the trash? Plus that picture was from the day before when I was in full vacation mode.

This smile is 2 parts love and one part “your email does not find me, at all.”

And, probably a bonus part of lunchtime beer, which also may have been contributing to the amount I was sweating on this stroll, but - why on earth did I make this note?

“For to the garbage can.”

I will never know. And that’s ok.

A little mystery can still be plenty amusing.