Sometimes in the course of human events, an orgasm occurs.  Lately, it hasn't been mine.  And I sure could use one -- or several, preferably all in a row.

I checked my Outlook calendar, and I don't have a single one scheduled for anytime next week.  My horoscope doesn't predict any.  There weren't any in the local weather forecast.  Even that Arab guy at the gas station hasn't offered me any lately.  And there is not a single one on sale at Nordstrom, not even in the free gift you get when you buy $75 of products at the Lancome counter, and they usually have great gifts.  I've even checked under the sofa cushions where I occasionally find great treasures ranging from spare change to petrified Cheetos.

It's not that orgasms are completely unavailable to me.  I haven't had my arms amputated or anything.  And the Lovely Lady T would be happy to help me find one lying around the house somewhere.

I'm just too busy, too tired and too stressed, lately, to find one.  Or even make the effort.  So I am left with merely a vague desire, without the motivation to do the job or have anyone else do it for me.

You might think that it doesn't take a great deal of effort to get an orgasm.  It's not like clearcutting brush off an 80-acre parcel on a 20 degree slope, or anything, you'd say.  But you would be wrong.  It can take enormous effort.  It can require some seriously heavy lifting, and even then it could be all for naught.

At times like these, when I'm stressed and busy and tired, the possibility of an orgasm seems as remote and difficult to find as a palm tree in Barrow, Alaska.  Even if I take the time and make the effort, it just doesn't happen.  Yet times like these are perhaps when I need one the most.

Oh, well.  I suppose it is simply not to be.  Maybe if I could ever get a day off.  But I can't.  And now, rather than find my orgasm, I have to go to the store, then the pet store, then go on a hike with T, then get my nails done, then do some legal research, then fix the turtle pond, then make dinner, then clean up the dishes, and then if I'm very lucky, have an hour or two to collapse before going to sleep and getting up early Sunday to drive to Beverly Hills and spend the day preparing a client for his deposition on Monday.

So if anyone finds a spare orgasm or nine lying around, please email it to me and I will be very thankful, once I get enough of a break to even be able to check my email.

Back to the grindstone...