Mediocrity: Nothing to Write Home About

I wrote home about my accomplishments, and no one commented, so I wrote about my mediocre life, and everyone wanted to have coffee with me. A month later, I started to notice how popular scrapbook making (or as the lazies call it, scrapbooking, as if lawn mowing could be called lawn mowering) had become, so I started my own Mediocre Moments scrapbook. I was relieved that it was just a scrapbook, because scraps were all I was willing to offer. A former professor was trying to be encouraging when I snorted, "Did you think I'd write a novel? C'mon! Like I have that kind of aptitude!" She grimaced--it was the face that encapsulated that day's activities, so there it is today, as I've precisely doodled it, on page 31. I keep up with this scrapbook because it's easy to do. I don't have to "dig deep" for material. One day, I glued a leaf on it. It wasn't an extraordinary leaf, as you might have guessed. It was just something I yanked off the shrub in front of the house.