Thanks to a close Senate vote, I'm thinking about my internet search history.
It looks a little suspicious. I know it does. I realized it years ago, not long after the ability to type random words and questions into a search bar and get answers became a thing.
Although my queries were fundamentally innocent -- really, officer -- even I can't deny they look a little funny. Not funny like "kitchen matches" followed by "flammable liquids" followed by "empty old barns near me." My history is more subtle than that. It would give investigators something to chew on.
I can practically hear a couple of them, trying to work out the message my searches send. "What do you make of this, Joe?" one would say to the other. "We've got 'elephant's gestation period,' 'songs about stupidity' and 'Luther's 95 theses,' one right after the other." No simple arson charges for me, in other words.
My search history would require the services of several psychiatric consultants to unpack, and even then, no watertight conclusions are likely to be drawn.
I remember looking up "Lion King word." I couldn't remember the phrase "hakuna matata," and I wanted to say it. It's fun to say "hakuna matata."
It's like executing a fancy little dance step on your way to the mailbox.
Not being able to remember the phrase was driving me nuts, at least as nuts as people are driven in these days of instant memory gratification.
But the answer wasn't as instant as all that. The first site I found told me that exactly 429 words are associated with "The Lion King," including meerkat, Pumbaa and Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba.
Also, I took a little side trip into the rumor that the Disney movie includes a subliminal message in the sky (I didn't see it) before finally finding "hakuna matata." Hakuna matata. Hakuna matata. I also like saying skedaddle.
Soon after that, I went looking for a line from "The Princess Bride." You know the one: "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."
You never know when you might need to say that. I've worked with several people who needed to say that several times a day, every day.
I'm pretty sure I searched for "The Elf Who Lost His Hand in a Tragic Toy Factory Accident" because I couldn't believe it was really "a beloved animated holiday special" and not online satire. I also couldn't believe it was created and drawn by the same person who writes the comic strip "Sally Forth."
No offense to Francesco Marciuliano, but that's a strip my husband and I compete to see who can avoid reading it most successfully.
Thus far, he's winning, and although we've raised two wonderful daughters, our marriage may not survive my loser's resentment.
I searched for "the breath you take just before you speak" to confirm that this is called a "catch breath."
I know this because I also looked up "catch breath," only to get a series of tiresome explanations of what it means to catch your breath.
And yes, if you must know, I searched for "who defuses explosives," probably so I could describe calming a child or a dog in the same terms, though I know how weak that will sound during cross-examination, when the district attorney points out that my very next search was "who defuses land mines."
I had my reasons for researching hymns -- wedding hymns, Catholic hymns, funeral hymns, confirmation hymns and spirituals -- and I remember searching "twirling light over a dance floor" and "Japanese beetles," but even I wonder why I looked for "dinosaur with scales on back" and "words that rhyme with 'canary.' " (Airy, marry, ordinary, dromedary.)
I recall checking out "The Wedding of Q and U" because it was a skit performed by students at the school my 7-year-old grandson attends when we aren't engaged in social distancing.
But what set me off on hunts for "Tibetan mastiff," "Weekly Readers 1960" and "Bambi mascara?" What is Bambi mascara? No, don't tell me.
I'll just Google it.
Write to columnist Margo Bartlett at email@example.com.