Can’t learn from error of my ways

There are those who dedicate their lives to the study of one thing: stars, insects, migration paths of the Monarch butterfly, the fatality rate of those who insist on texting while driving, or whether the toilet paper be fed from the top or the bottom.
I think you probably know someone like that–who knows everything there is to know on a particular subject.
My studies tend to be more random and more applicable to what I consider an average life; one where I am not jet-setting around the globe or crossing the mighty oceans in my sailboat or climbing high mountains, though some mornings my basement stairs feel very high, too high. And once I’ve gone down them to tend to the fire, I’m not sure I want to bother climbing back up and I imagine living out my days in my basement or until the wood runs out.
It’s not the same as mountain-climbing at first glance but there are similarities, I’m sure you will agree.
We’ve all experienced the laboratory of life where the best lessons are the hard ones, or so we are told. Jumping off the roof of the barn into the snow almost always was a lot of fun and my siblings and I repeatedly tested the hypothesis and found it to be a very good idea–until we learned the “almost” part can really hurt and sometimes break bits of us we regularly use, like an arm or a leg.
Most of us have done the tried and true test with our tongue on an aluminum ladder in the winter. And though those who tried it before we were born regularly reported the results with a wagging finger and a loud warning, we thought it best we conduct our own study and, sure enough, our results were spot on.
It definitely is not a good idea–unless you’ve got time to spare to wait until the ladder gets bored and lets go of your tongue. That was my approach and it turns out I had to wait a very, very long time for the ladder to release my tongue of its own accord.
I’m sure there are plenty of gems I could impart, the wisdom from my very own life laboratory, but we all learn from our own experiments. And some of us are very slow learners and have to repeat the experiments a few times until we are sure of the conclusion we draw.
I just have performed a thorough study involving Rice Krispies. My mother used to say too much of a good thing is not a good thing. That may have been her personal spin on Shakespeare’s question posed in “As You Like It,” written in 1599. Can one desire too much of a good thing?
My recent studies have deduced the answer to the question posed.
As it turns out, though it may be hard to believe and there may be those who doubt my credibility, but I assure you I have reviewed my notes and the parameters of my testing procedure and I confirm, judging by the state of the roof of my mouth and the ache in my tummy … you can, in fact, eat too much Rice Krispies cake.
I hope you can learn from the error of my ways. However, I fear I will forget these results when the experiment next presents itself.
wendistewart@live.ca