Here it is Thursday, and I haven't updated my blog for the week.
I have excuses.
But they're just that, so I'm backing away from the temptation to share said excuses.
Instead, I'll share something interesting. Hmmmn.
((taps fingers on beautiful piano desk.))
Well, let's see....Oh, I know!!
I'll share a cautionary tale, as lived out by me.
So, the pretty little town I live in is experiencing an explosion of crime.
A big explosion. There were 12 bank robberies in our county this last year, and 11 of them were in our little town. Home invasions and robberies in our town have more than doubled in the last year. I could go on, but you get the idea, right?
So, I'm at my trusty laptop, when DH says to me, "Hun, I think I should run for town board."
"Mmmmfh," I say, trying to decide whether my hero has grinned, smiled, or merely quirked the corner of his mouth.
"We really need somone with law enforcement experience on the board. Look at our policing levels, and our exploding crime rate."
"Yes," I say, having decided that less is more--the quirk is what I need.
"Well, that was easy. I thought I'd really have to sell you on the idea. I'm off to order campaign materials."
"Uh, huh," I say, trying to figure out what my fiesty heroine's reaction will be to hero's quirk of the lips. Is she amused? Annoyed? Indifferent?
Fast forward a week and a half. I pull into my driveway, and before I get the keys to off position, I see it. A tower--and I do mean tower, of white boxes, stacked so high and wide, I can't get to my front door.
"What the--" I say, (slightly cranky about the mountain of boxes I have to move before I can enter my house.)
I reach up to about the five foot level and try to pluck a box from the top of the stack. It doesn't move. I try again, with more vim. Gosh, it's heavy. What is in here?
I cut the tape with my keys and open the box. Yup. Campaign materials. Cards to be specific, urging all and sundry to vote for DH.
Errrm??? Well crap. I'd better move some of these so I can get through the door.
I corner DH when he gets home. I'm tired, sweaty, and maybe a little cranky, seeing as I'm waving a campaign card wildy as I approach him.
He listens to my questions, fired like pellets from an airgun.
He waits for me to peter out.
"We had this conversation," he says patiently. Then DH replays the conversation word for word, and even attempting to duplicate my voice.
"Ooooh," I groan. Despite the fact that my husband always makes me sound like the queen of England when he mimics me, I do vaugely remember this conversation.
"Anyway," he finishes, "I have the cards now--I HAVE to run."
LESSON #1. Pay attention when your significant other speaks. Even if he/she speaks while you're in the middle of tweaking a pivotal scene. Trust me on this.
I berate myself silently for not paying better attention when DH speaks. Then I shrug. Oh well, he's running. How much work could that be??
Tune in next time, and I'll share LESSON #2 with you...