Wednesday, September 02, 2015



Housekeepers Wednesday.

Outside door was locked. Housekeeper yelled through the screen. She sounded terribly pissed.

Now I hadn’t seen her or heard from her or been by her house, hadn’t seen her hubby, or talked with him, for going on two weeks. Knew it couldn’t have somewhat to do with me, but with woman, you never know.

There wasn’t any where to run, you understand, what with her in the doorway of the only door I could escape through quickly. So I opt-ted for nice.

I asked after her hubby, after the going ons in her village, and finally after her personal health – which proved my undoing.

She told me.

She told me about menopause, about her mensies, which had started this morning after a two cycle absence and where she ached and where she thought she ached and . . .

Well, I said, I did ask,  didn’t I.

You did, she said, aren’t you sorry.


Later. ,

(There always seems to be a Later)

“I saw the mother of one of hubby’s co-workers the other day, she volunteers. I asked Hubby about him and he knew him vaguely, but not the mother.”

“Well,” I say, “He hasn’t been working there for very long. Not near long enough to know kith and ken.”

“Yeah. Probably you’re right. But the mother asked me if I was married. I told  her I was and she asked me if it was happily married.”

“She told me that her son was recently divorced and that she was down to the library to pick up her grandson.”

“How’d you handle the rest of the day, Housekeeper:” I asked.

“Well, it was nice someone was out shopping and I fit the bill.” she said. “I did tell hubby about the incident, though. He said that as far as he knew the guy whose mother was shopping for a wife for her son?, well, he was married to a bi-poler woman.”

“You escaped, again, Housekeeper.”

“Yeah. Good thing I hate kids, isn’t it?”


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey




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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