Yesterday, I drove past a possum that was lying motionless on the road’s center line. ‘Dead or playing possum?’ I wondered. Then I saw that its tiny snout was marinating in a tiny blood puddle. ‘Wow, this possum is playing possum and is quite the method play-actor,’ I decided.

‘Finally some recognition,’ I fantasized it thinking, and then I remembered a waitress once telling me method actors are not trained to think.

‘This possum is either dead or is a grand illusionist—some other entity disguising itself as a dead possum,’ I rethought.

‘Thanks, not bad for an antelope, huh?’ it probably internally crowed.

I’ll say. No, not bad at all.

Today, I drove past the same possum-poser, only this time it was facing another direction. ‘That possum-looking entity sure is foxy,’ I thought. ‘Did the gusts from speeding traffic spin the thing or did it reposition itself? And if it did move itself, did it do so to scout for my return or to confuse me?’

I was about to introduce into the puzzle,‘If that damn thing is not dead, it sure has a big pair of brass ones to be a sitting duck like that in harm’s way,’ but opted to not make this issue more flummoxed than I already had.

I have always been an ignoramus when it comes to math and logic. So, as compensation, I overanalyze things in an attempt to trick myself into thinking I am an ace equation solver. But what usually happens is I spin and twist myself into a pretzel state of befuddlement.

Just as I abandoned my conundrum, I drove past a squirrel, flat as a proverbial pancake and lying motionless on the road’s center line. ‘The possum entity’s got nothing on this squirrel entity,’ I thought. ‘It’s disguised itself as a page of a surgeon’s professional journal. What an accomplishment, although I do think the blood and guts spatter is overkill.’

Tomorrow, I’m not leaving my house.