There was a blur, and I became a Dr.

Have you ever heard of the word "blur"?  

Well, I've both heard of it and I've experienced it.

Here's what happened.

My parents arrived at my house.

They took my picture.

We drove to a building, loaded down with 500 containers of cookies, and a laptop.

Suddenly, I found myself in a quandary,

 a quandary of--

 the technological kind.

Fortunately,

my tech guy was in his office, 

and willing to go to extremes to take care of me.

This led to the next part,

 the part where the room was full of people I know and love,

and I was talking to them,

 wielding my laser-pointer-of-power.

Then, they were asking me very interesting questions,

and we were engaging in very serious conversation.

Soon, the people were whisking away with plates of cookies in their hands, and my committee and I were sitting around the table, continuing the discourse.  

I wrote down everything they said, and then--

They shook my hand.

They called me "Doctor".

And I went to greet my public.

The next thing I knew,

my favorite Mrs. Begg had bought me a drink,

my friends were gathering around me,

 these dear committee members and I were raising our glasses, 

 my parents were popping buttons,

 and all of us were laughing.

The laughter led us all the way to dinner, where more friends met us, and where food was ordered and eaten with ravenous glee. 

[Somehow, in the midst of the blur and all of that glee, 

no one even took a picture.  Can you imagine?]

Then, the day long and the evening over, I raised my tired finger in the air and addressed my audience with authority, saying:

"I am going home."

Thus spake, 

Dr. Kooistra.