Friday, April 22, 2016

One dollar - the untellable story

Once again I am back, the turmoil of life having started to abate.  We moved to a new house, in a new city, in a new state, and started new jobs, and the Hatchling started school, and I had an enormous mechanical claw grafted to my spine which appears to have developed a habit of shoplifting fruit.

So I thought to myself tonight - "Self," I thought, "- Self, why not do a bit of blogging?"  So I opened up one of my old notebooks where I keep ideas and found this one:

One Dollar
"Hey! Come back you bitch!"

Clearly at the time I wrote this I was under the impression that this would remind me of some sort of concrete event or thought, but sadly this is not the case.  I have no idea whatsoever what I might have been thinking of writing.  Sorry you. Sorry self. Sorry bitch.  Your tale remains untold.

However, in the interests of not entirely wasting your time, here's a segue .., see if you can figure out the theme:

Last week we went out to dinner to a fancy-schpanzy restaurant with some old friends.  I came out of the bedroom wearing a tweed jacket, because old people dig that kind of shit.  The Hatchling looked at me and said, "Hey! Come back you bitch!"

No, of course she did not.  She actually said, "Dadda, you look very curious." I thought she meant that I looked odd or peculiar so I did my best offended act and instructed her to clarify herself, to which replied, "You look like you are going to solve a mystery!"


Anonymous said...

Aah, you are getting ready for Midsomer methinks?? So long as there is a candlestick in the library and a rope in the kitchen, tweed jackets are always du jour.

PTR said...

I've always wondered why someone would have a rope in the kitchen or a lead pipe in their conservatory. If I noticed those things in a house I was visiting I would run right out the door. Lead pipes have no business in a conservatory. Not that I know what does have business in a conservatory. Is it perhaps a room where you store jam? Or is it a room where elderly politicians are disciplined in nappies? I really must speak to my architect about our extension plans.