I spent 10 minutes this morning trying to find a pair of knee-hi stockings that didn't have holes or runners. Or as in some cases, holes AND runners. And that was nine minutes more than I had to spare.

"What the heck?" I asked myself as I threw another one on the pile that was beyond redemption. I wondered why I took off a holey mess the last time I wore it and didn't throw it away but instead put it in the laundry to be washed again.

Even better yet, why did I just go through every single knee-hi, determine it was not wearable and then when I picked out two of the least offending ones to wear, put all the others back into my drawer? If I deemed they were not wearable this morning, why would they be tomorrow?

Have you ever done such stupid things?

Have you ever been vacuuming and come across something the vacuum wouldn't pick up, no matter how many times you ran over it? If you bent over, picked up the string that the vacuum didn't pick up and then put it back on the floor and ran the vacuum over it again, raise your hand. Ha! Me too! Why do we do that? Why don't we just throw it in the trash can?

Have you ever found a stink bug in your house, wrinkled your nose as you picked it up and then threw it outside because you didn't want to squash it because it's supposed to stink and then when you see one a day later making its way across the ceiling wonder if it's the same one?

I want to know if the manufacturers of the plastic bags used in sealing food items sit up in their offices laughing their head offs when they picture us poor schmucks trying to open them and then cereal, shredded cheese, instant pudding and chips go flying all over the counter and on the floor?

Have you ever gone through your purse over and over again looking for your cell phone and when you couldn't find it, had someone call your number so you could locate it? And it was still in your purse? OK. In my defense, it's an ancient small flip phone and may be from an alien planet because I swear it does everything in it's power to avoid letting me find it. I mean, it's in a confined space for goodness sakes! Why does it become so elusive?

Have you ever been driving in an area where you've never been before and are trying to follow your MapQuest directions and turn your radio down? I do that all the time! I guess I can't hear myself think.

Have you ever done this? I was at the hospital one day and pressed the elevator button to go up. When the elevator didn't arrive fast enough for me, I pressed it again. Not once, not twice, but I did the push push push push push thing. Like that was going to make it appear instantly. Really. Why do we do that?

Here's another one. I'm at work. It snows. I get in the car to go home. There's snow all over the driver's side window. I can't see so I roll the automatic window down which doesn't stop when I want it to so all the snow comes falling inside. On me. What's sad is, it wasn't the first time I ever did that.

Have you ever been in the middle of making a cake or preparing a meal when you realize you're missing an ingredient? I got a Paula Deen calendar for Christmas and it comes with a different recipe for every month. I vowed to make every recipe in the month. April's was Crunchy Top Apple Pie. Of course I didn't read it carefully before Saturday so in the middle of making it, I learned it took applesauce. There wasn't an ounce of it in the house so off to the store I went, praying I wouldn't meet anyone I knew because I didn't take time to do my hair or change my flour-streaked shirt. Yup. You guessed it. I ran into every Tom, Dick and Harriet I know, apologizing for my appearance. Then I couldn't just grab a jar of applesauce, oh no. I had to really think it through. If I bought a jar and only used a cup of applesauce, it might sit in the refrigerator until it grew hair. So when I spied the cute little pack with eight individual servings, I thought it was the perfect solution because then I could put the others in Harry's lunches. I grabbed it and got out of Dodge before anyone else saw me.

When I arrived home and checked to see how much applesauce the pie took, I was ready to deck Paula Deen. The recipe called for "1 16 oz. jar of applesauce." A whole jar? 16 ounces? I frantically held up my cute little applesauce pack and looked to see how many ounces where in one container. Four ounces. I counted the containers in the pack ... eight. I did the math. Whew! Just made it! I tore off the tops and started spooning applesauce into the mix of flour, cinnamon, sugar and apples. I remember thinking, "Boy, that's an awful lot of applesauce!" That night when serving it to our friends, I told them it took 16 oz. of applesauce. Everyone agreed that was mostly what they tasted. I didn't think it was one of Paula's "best dishes."

As I was writing this, it finally registered. If each little container held four ounces, and I used all eight containers, that's 32 ounces. I put 32 ounces of applesauce in that pie when it asked for only 16! No wonder all we tasted was the applesauce because it was an applesauce pie!

Have you ever wondered how you could manage to survive 62 years being this stupid?