Now that I’ve committed to the Holidailies challenge, I’m wondering if I have that much to say.
The noise you just heard was my family falling on the floor laughing. They know the problem isn’t that I don’t have anything to say. The problem is I don’t know when to stop.
For example, when someone asks, “Do these pants make my butt look big?”
If one says, “Do you think it’s the pants?” One has said too much.
If someone asks, “This gravy isn’t too lumpy, is it?”
One should not reply, “Gravy? I thought this was crunchy peanut butter.”
Occasionally, the shoe gets placed on the other foot.
I just joined the local Volunteer Fire Department and am studying to be one of my communities’ EMTs. In a burst of pride, solidarity or dementia, my Loved One gave me a pair of Fireman Boots. Such as these are ordered specially from the Policeman and Fireman Supply Catalog which holds a multitude of items that someone with an active imagination shouldn’t be allowed access to, but I digress.
The Fireman Boots have thick soles for standing a long time on hard surfaces. Rugged lug treads for climbing slippery slopes. High tops to protect fragile ankles. A broad width across the ball of the foot, so one’s toes don’t get squished. In other words, when Dr. Frankenstein bought footwear for the Monster, he shopped in the Fireman’s Supply Catalog.
I said to my Loved One, “These shoes make my feet look enormous.”
And he said, “Are they warm?”
“I can’t even cover them up with my pant leg,” says I.
“And they’re warm,” says he.
Discretion, the better part of valor, also makes for long marriages.
So, I ask you, dear reader, do these boots make my feet look big?
I know they're warm.