Thursday, August 27, 2009

An unfocused morning.

It started yesterday. Yesterday was Housekeepers day, and as is correct, I searched the blog and found Thursday’s entry two weeks ago.

That is the entry in which I was ambivalent showing Housekeeper. However, I had stated that I show Housekeeper each entry in which I mention her. There was no intent to upset the Ritual in this maneuver.  I simply waited until she had completed hers and then directed her attention to the article.

With her usual trepidation she approached the middle management office chair and began.

Within the space of five minutes she went from stoic acceptance to laughter, to tears leaking down her cheeks to laughter.

I was confused.

She ended laughing.

She pops from the middle management office chair and glides past me, tears running, into the kitchen. Bangs on the water taps and shoves her hands beneath the flow.

I go to the computer and lose the entry to desk top and, in turn, retreat to the kitchen door.

Housekeeper remains hands thrust into the water, red of face, head bowed.


Response: I’m laughing.

I must re-read that post. I’m not sure she was. Laughing, that is.


Item: My tires. The deal was to receive a phone call when the tires came in and another when they were ready to mount them – the they being the local Co-Op.

Neither call has been received.

Looking sad. But then, they’re generally looking sad.

Sometimes I dislike small communities intensely.


Second day of rain.

Labor Day approaches. That is The BIG day around the village. Grass needs cutting before then or I’ll hear how sad a citizen has no civic pride.

Belch. I haven’t won the raffle for half a beef, ever, come to think of it. Then, on the other hand, I’ve only purchased one one dollar ticket in twelve years.

There’s a correlation there somewhere, I think.


I was told a joke the other day. It was told in long form. I’ll give you the punch line in respect. It concerned an Old Man taking a physical for Medicare. He had no proof age with him. The nurse told him to show his chest hairs, as she had found she could accurately judge age in that manner. The Old Man did and was signed off for the care.

He returned home and informed his wife of the fact and explained the faux-pax with the ID and the result.

The wife informed him he should have dropped his drawers and shown, he would have gained Disability.


Housekeeper told me that.

Perhaps I will not review that entry after all. As she does not know my age, and, I’ll assume, is getting even for thinking her in menopause, I’ll have to find a means of elevating my game at the game of disrupting the Ritual.


Sigh. Life is hard.


From the reaches,

Ten Mile

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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