Image from HERE
Licking breakfast marmalade from my fingers, hubster is considering his next move to wash-up or head out to run.
“What’s the time?” I said.
“Huh,” he says, a sense of glee in his voice alerting me this is not going to be as easy as it should be. “The clock says 7.58, the radio says 8.01, so it must be 9am.”
“I’m running at 9am, you asked me.”
“No, I asked you what the time is.”
“No, you asked me what time I’m running.”
Giving up licking marmalade, I reply. “I didn’t. I asked you what the time is and you said, The clock says 7.58, the radio says 8.01, so it must be 9am.”
Hubster sits down. “No, you asked me what time I’m running.”
“Well if I did, then why did you tell me it was sometime between 7.58 and 8.01?”
Hubster looks at me, that way he does when he really wants to end the conversation and pretend it hasn’t happened, as in, little smile, almost a flutter of his eyelids.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” I said, trying hard not to stop licking fingers and start chewing them. “If we could have a rewind button and remove the last 90 seconds of our life?”
Hardly surprising to learn we both agreed.
What the heck is this blog about?
Should you have fallen onto this blog, the purpose it serves is to ignite my love of writing once more by simply typing whatever is on my mind for 15 minutes and stopping