My wife wants me to take out the trash. It happens every Wednesday evening. The collection is early Thursday morning.
Don’t forget to put out the trash.
Have you put out the trash yet?
Just wait before you take the trash out; I haven’t finished peeling the potatoes and don’t want the scraps rotting away for a week.
It usually starts on the Tuesday.
Don’t forget to put out the trash.
Have you put out the trash yet?
At least we have a sort of semi-conversation. It’s the only conversation we have all week. It’s been like that for a couple of years.
Don’t forget to put out the trash.
Have you put out the trash yet?
Wait! Wait! Can’t you wait till I finish peeling the potatoes, you stupid man.
It’s Wednesday. I have my wallet in my pocket. I’m going to take the trash out. And I’m going to keep on walking.
I had the feeling you couldn’t stay away from the blogosphere for too long. A great little story, too! At first I thought the man was taking his wallet because the trash he planned to take out was a better woman than his wife. But perhaps that’s the sequel. Welcome back!
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Thanks, Sarah! I’m going to try and do a little monologue a day. My only fear will be that some might regard them as autobiographical – WHICH THEY AREN’T!
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Oh sure, that’s what you say …
Welcome back, Brewster. You’ve been missed.
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These boots are made for walking …
Glad you are back, Bruce. And now you give me a chance to write about Nancy Sinatra songs (well, song–if we are to be frank (pun intended)).
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This is an invitation to join the Gnostic Society – you, me, and Cynthia could talk about Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazelwood, and young people wouldn’t have a clue what we were talking about. Would that make us feel superior or what?
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We are superior.
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And so he did… he walked all the way down to River Street, and his usual stool at the end of the 50 ft. bar at Maxine’s Tap Room. Maxine herself was a very sympathetic woman with a crusty sense of humor and would put him in a better mood. But if she was busy with other customers, he could always count on singing along with a sad song from the jukebox, or a meaningful silent dialogue with the deer-head up on the wall, adorned with Mardi Gras beads, sunglasses and a tie.
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Give us this day our daily giggle!! Thank you, Cynthia.
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Haha! Nice to see your unique style of humor on display again!
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Thank you Jan. I’m not yet sure if I should’ve come back or not!
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Hooray! You’re back and as cutting as ever. Terrific slice of life, Bruce. Keep ’em coming!
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Thank you, Susanne. I’ve recently moved into town, and am rather bored as I’m not sure what town people are meant to do to fill in their time. I no longer have the dear goat (pictured), the cow is in the freezer, and the little dog (Delia) died. We’ve put in 3 raised garden beds, and today the turnip seeds germinated (and this is the highlight of the week!) So, yes, I decided a blog continued might help!
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Aha, you did escape the nasty landlord.
I’m sorry to hear about Delia.
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Lovely to hear from you Yvonne. No – the landlords are taking us to court in November – they want $6000 – there were holes in the ceiling. The holes were first espied 7 hours after we handed back the keys. It is exceedingly stressful! The woman landlord smells money and becomes a megalomaniac. This is going to go on for years. Why O why did it happen to me?!! Yes – very sad about the little dog. Very sad indeed. But we’re getting another – a Springer Spaniel – that we get on November 21. He’s called Bubble.
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I’m so sorry to hear that those demented people are trying to do this to you. I sincerely hope the voice of reason prevails, Bruce.
Bubble doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to lead a happy life.
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I think you’ve found the perfect townie activity. Blogging is very urban and urbane, ideal for the new man in town and a great conversation opener (and closer).
I’m sorry to hear about Delia. Did she die before the move? Sometimes I think I will miss my dog more than some people when he dies, which I hope won’t be for a few years yet.
May next week bring you more germination and a good steak.
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It’s true about missing dogs! We had moved about a month earlier. Basically, we went for a walk, she came home, couldn’t stand and died the next morning. (To my shame I cried more than when my mother died – but she was 87! Shhh!)
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I’m very sorry about Delia, Bruce. As you know, I have a weakness for small dogs. I am still grieving for three of them.
A springer spaniel! Good Lord, one of Ariel’s relatives!
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Thanks, Prospero. The neighbours were very nice and brought flowers! Which was great. Delia we think was a springer spaniel/border collie cross (we think) although quite small. The new one we’re calling “Bubbles” (we think). Not quite the class of an Ariel!
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Bubbles sounds very classy. Anyhow, they all know how to find a place in our hearts.
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Exactly!
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Nice thought, Mr. did you throw out the trash, but you’ll be back for supper, right? 😀 😀 😀
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Next thing she’ll be wanting me to dry the dishes… 🙂
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I can might laughing. 😀
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I somehow knew you’d be back, Bruce! A good little tale, although I suspect that he will, in the end, return to what he knows.
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Hi Chris – yes, I think you’re right!
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I know that conversation too well. 🙂
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It’s not autobiographical, but is perhaps inspired by a touch of reality!
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Welcome back, Bruce. I read these two in reverse order
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Thanks Derrick – I have been reading but rarely commenting on things. My permanence here is still “a little up in the air”!
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Welcome back Bruce! Great monologue, I hope he finds adventure 🙂
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Thanks, Andrea. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be back for!
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Long or short, it’s a pleasure to see you!
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Looky here! I have a Halloween treat! Thanks for enriching the Blogosphere once more, Bruce! And what a release from the rotting peels… Do keep walking.
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I have difficulty using the word trash (not a word we use in New Zealand really). We call it rubbish!! I’m glad you have found that I’m back to posting!
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