Today, when Phil started the car the heater was on full blast--it was cold this morning when I came home from my Personal History group--it was cold, okay, even though it's technically June, so I turned the heater on--the radio was on--loud--I was listening to NPR. Poor Phil, he looked wild eyed, like a wildebeest when it knows the crocodile, with his wicked teeth is going to get him.
Phil, before he turned the car on.
Phil, after he tuned the car on and the fan blasted him in the face and the radio blasted his ears.
He was so startled he punched the button that heats the rear window...on...off. He looked at me like a very startled human being and frantically punched the rear window defrost button again...on...off. Finally his brain synapses connected and he turned everything off. He slumped like a rag doll.
Poor Phil, having a wife who forgets to turn things off. She also leaves cabinet doors open. She doesn't mean to, but there they are, open. Some of her children are also cabinet-door-leaver-openers. Maybe it's in the genes. I apologize to those charming people who married my cabinet-door-leaver-openers.
But look at it this way. At least you know what we've been doing in the kitchen. Maybe we have even been getting dinner. How about that? That's a good thing, right?
And the radio is probably on. And maybe some odd fan, somewhere. We leave a trail, like breadcrumbs.
