And so it goes, in the Land of Bonnywood, there will be times when, despite my yearning to exude an aura of professionalism and skill, that I will fall through the cracks of said professionalism and land with a resounding thud. It’s not a pretty scene, with me floundering about in an ooze of shame and degradation.
One of those times just happened.
I was innocently perusing the latest offerings on Margo’s delightful site, that little voice, when I chanced upon a post entitled “Scary Sign”. This was a proffering of “fun and scary” photos with a Halloween theme. At the tail end of said display, there was a snap of a Trump/Pence sign in someone’s yard. I found this amusing, and therefore a comment was imperative. However, someone had already commented about the sign, and it was only polite that I not act like I was the first to notice the placard, so I had to modulate my response to acknowledge Those Who Had Been There and Done That Before Me. Sadly, there was a breach of proper keyboard-operation protocol, and things went south.
Herewith, the conversation:
Me: “Agreed, that last one sent a child down my spine…”
Margo: “Pray tell what child did you have playing on your spine?”
Me: “See, this is what I get for trying to type after gorging myself on a lovely buttermilk chess pie that was calling my name from the kitchen. Isn’t it amazing how the mistyping of one letter can suddenly make a comment VERY creepy?”
Margo: “Creepy? Yes.”
So now I’m assuming that Margo, staunch supporter of doing the right thing that she is, has alerted the appropriate authorities that I may be one of those evildoers who coerces small children to check me for signs of scoliosis. (Fair disclosure: Margo probably laughed it off and then went to make her own buttermilk chess pie, because why wouldn’t you want one after someone mentions such?) Still, I’m sitting here at my hallowed writing desk, waiting for a knock on the door. Perhaps I should eat the rest of the pie in case it’s the last one I ever see…
Categories: Present Tense