Surprise, surprise, surprise!

It's not often I'm surprised, only ten or twenty times a day, and it may be more, but I don't keept count.

Some surprises, such as the mouse running near my feet and behind the power switch, make me catch my breath and stop my heart, but only for an instant. After that one, I recovered nicely and moved a trap from where it was only collecting dust to one where it may more profitably collect vermin.

Other surprises are more pleasant, though not on the order of a woman indicating delight at my presence nor welcoming my awkward advances. That may come in time, but its lack must still be categorized as a disappointment. No, most of my pleasant surprises now are mundane ones, delighting only me.

A frequent source of pleasurable surprises is food. I'm a fussy eater, as much by habit as anything reasonable, but I do experiment. A distinct advantage I have, over more liberal eaters, is that about half the time I find myself mistaken. I try something new with a prejudicial and unwarranted dislike, but find out it's pretty damn good. People approaching a new dish with a neutral attitude may find it as enjoyable as I do, but they get there from a higher starting point.

Some foods I refuse to eat just on principal. For example, I've never in my life eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Not once. As a youngster something about peanut butter bugged me, and I thought it appropriate only for celery, and that only when salt wasn't handy. I loved jelly sandwiches (grape, predominately), but just couldn't imagine a PB&J sandwich.

So, I've never had one. By the time I got old enough to think it would be good, I realized I was in a nearly unique position by never having had one. That rare status isn't something to discard without a good reason, so I've stuck by it ever since.

Is it a life of deprivation? Sure, but it's also something I can bring up at cocktail parties. And, with any luck, that may lead me again to the more delightful surprise of unwrapping a warm and delightful woman.