You know, I've had some really weird things happen to me recently. I feel the need to share them with someone and you, lucky you, are the most likely target. So here goes. Charles (my hubby) was getting dressed yesterday morning and he was transferring all his manly shirt pocket stuff from the previous day's shirt to his clean shirt. Then he stopped and just looked at the stuff in his hand for a long time and I said, "what are you looking at?" He had this weird-looking little circle thing that looked like a plastic round gasket or something and he picked it up and looked a little more closely and I said (AGAIN!) "What is that?" And he finally answered me and said, "It's an onion." After I fell off the bed laughing, I said, "First of all, how did you get an onion in your shirt pocket? And, hey, wait a minute, why are you throwing that away? Doesn't it go in your pocket?"
Here's the second weird thing.... If I've already told you this one, just pretend you've never heard it before and don't say "You already told me that." Okay?
When I was in the hospital recently for a kidney infection, I asked the nurse for something for a headache. She asked me what I would like for a headache. If I hadn't been still slightly septic and only a few steps back from death's door, my smart ass genes would have kicked right in and I could have said, "Well you're the nurse, right? Why are you asking me?" But I wasn't that quick that morning. So I said, "Well tylenol would be fine." She said (with a perfectly straight face, I swear) "Sure I could give you some tylenol, but wouldn't you prefer some morphine? It is on your orders, you know." I took the tylenol. She didn't like it. And, no, I won't tell you the name of the hospital so you can go there.
Third weird thing. I was in the courtroom with Eli (my son) for the hearing to get his occupational license. I know how these things can drag on and on, so I took a book with me to pass the time. At first, Eli and I entertained ourselves by playing the clothes-police game where we make fun of what most of the lawyers and clerks are wearing and wonder why none of them have mirrors to look in before they leave the house in the morning. But before long, we had exhausted our supply of people to ridicule, so I decided to read for a while. I pulled my book out of my purse and started reading. Nice and quiet. Ahhhh - relaxing. Then Eli decided to go ask the bailiff a question. So he went over to Rusty (that's probably not his real name, but we like to call him that because he just looks like "Rusty the Bailiff") and asked his question. Then as Eli started to walk away, Rusty the Bailiff called him back and said to him (and I swear to you I am not making this up) "You're going to have to tell your mom to put her book away. There's no reading allowed in the courtroom." So Eli came back to where we were sitting and told me what Rusty the Bailiff said and I was so shocked that I laughed out loud and said in a real voice (not the hushed, whispery-so-you-won't-get-nailed-by-Rusty-the-Bailiff-voice) "You're not serious?!" Then Rusty the Bailiff gave me a dirty look so I would know that oh yes, indeed, he was most serious. Now you may be wondering if there is some part of this story I am leaving out, but I assure you, there isn't. I wasn't reading porn or anything subversive like "Overthrowing the Government for Dummies" and I was not reading out loud. I was not even moving my lips as I read (because, just in case you might be wondering, no I don't move my lips when I read.) And I wasn't turning pages speedy-quick which might make a rustling noise or anything like that. None of that. Just reading. But there is no reading in court. Hmmmm.
"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on." Robert Frost
