Wednesday 11 November 2015

Nobody Likes a Saint

Okay. Its official, I am losing it.

I went out today and one of the things I went out for was milk. I arrived home with a hot dog, drink and no milk. It wouldn’t have been bad if I had noticed there was no milk sometime before the stores closed for the night, but I didn’t. 
Image result for powdered milk
A couple of weeks ago I ran out of milk and I figured I would replace it with powdered milk. My buddy raised his family on powdered milk, so I figured I could go one bowl of cereal. Nope! Now I understand what a cruel person my friend was. My dad was in prison camp during WWII and the Germans served black bread that was made with half flour and half sawdust. After tasting that powdered milk I kind of wish I could get the taste out of my mouth with some of that POW bread.
I often find myself in the middle of a sentence without a clue where it ends. “Hey, you know that police chase the other night?...uhh…any idea what I was going to say?”

Louise looks at me and says “Nope. What were you saying?”

“If knew that I would have said it.” Generally at this point I just toddle off muttering to myself and hopefully a day or two later I’ll shout “..they were chasing an unmarked cop car!!!!”

“Who was?”

“Who was what?”


“Forget it!”

That is the story I am living now. Tonight there was a news report about large numbers in white stone laid out on Signal Hill that signify the four battalions that trained there before going to fight in WWI. The numbers have been there since 1991 and I have no memory of them at all. I suppose that it could be that I am incredibly unobservant, but I find it hard to believe that even I could miss fifty foot letters on a hillside. I told Louise that I didn’t remember them at all and she brought up a photo on her computer to show me.
Image result for signal hill numbers
“I just saw the same picture on TV, and I don’t remember it.” She showed me the picture again. I guess it’s like finding out the person you are talking to is deaf, so you slow down the words and speak a little louder. They are still deaf! I am still losing it!

Oh well, if I were perfect no one would talk to me. Nobody likes a saint.

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