It’s been a paper chase down here with plenty of sorting and filing needed. Sometime around 2013 or so, Mom started saving every bill, flyer and most anything else that came through the mailbox. The result was several boxes of paper that needed to be dealt with.
Gin and I were doing just that the other day when we came across a small metal filing box. Most of the contents were valuable—old pictures, wedding and college graduation invitations. Something in that box sure smelt pretty, though. I’m not sure what it was, but it had a real nice perfume to it. I told Gin to stick her nose in take a whiff. She agreed it smelled just fine.
Then I wondered what I would have done if it had smelled bad. Would I have invited her to smell that too?
Why is it that people do that anyway? They take something out of the fridge that has been in there for Lord knows how many days or weeks. What follows is a perfunctory testing process: first they open the lid and check it for colour and fuzz. If it passes that assessment the next will be the smell test.
It’s been my experience that, assuming it passes the colour/fuzz test, but the smell is kind of iffy, then it is likely they will turn to someone else and ask them to smell it.
Seems it would be kinder just to toss it. If the other person asks why it was tossed just be kind and tell them to keep their nose out of your business. But then you might get your nose punched for being rude.
Baseball playoffs have finally begun. I wasn’t always a fan but, with Special K coming from Boston, over time it became obvious that the safest course for me was to join Red Sox Nation.
The ground has shifted, though. Pam has passed and now I live with a sister who is an avid Los Angeles Dodgers fan. Both our teams are in the playoffs so what is “safest” has been redefined.
I know this from experience because when the BoSox traveled to the west coast earlier in the season Gin and I kept up some friendly heckling at each other. Unfortunately the evening that the match-up started, things were not going at all well around here.
The first game was on the TV in the living room; but other unexpected things were cascading through our lives and for me the kicker was when the chain in the toilet tank that lifts the flapper broke; I had to haywire some repairs to it. Difficult when you live in the middle of the city and don’t have any haywire.
I was pretty close to snapping but Gin beat me to it when I walked back into the living room to see her spitting hateful words and nasty looks at me. The Sox had taken the lead in the game.
Ginny still has the remote control and every evening a couple of hours of murder and mayhem entertain us through the dinner hour.
One of her favourite shows is called Snapped. It seems that there are enough domestic murders these days television producers can put it on as a nightly television show.
I worry Ginny is watching these murder shows to pick up a few tricks. I fear that if the Dodgers and BoSox make it through to the World Series, I had better start watching my back.
Take care of someone who loves you ….