"Life Gets Tedious Don't It" -- (A dollar to the first reader who correctly names the singer of that song and in what year.
It is not the major world concerns that wear me down. It is the accumulation of small things that makes life tedious.
I hate it when I am preparing to leave the house for an important engagement and I need to look good or at least presentable and I break a shoe lace. Drat and double drat. There is never a new pair of laces available so I have to tie a knot and that always looks impressive. Just take a marker and print loser on my forehead.
I hate it when BW loses her keys. Among the top five questions heard in our house is, "Have you seen my keys?" I always say, "Yes," which is followed by, "Well, where are they?" which is always followed by, "I don't know," which is always followed by, "I thought you said you had seen them!" which is always followed by, "I have seen your keys but not today," which is followed by, 'You know what I meant," which is followed by "I did not." Wink wink
I hate it when I pay for something and don't get home with it. Sometimes BW comes home with groceries and says, "I didn't get home with the hummingbird tongues from Bolivia and the liggonberry sauce from Denmark," She fulminates while scouring the house like the Texas Rangers looking for Bonnie and Clyde. "They aren't in the car either," she shrieks in the most genteel manner. "Where did that small sack come from? There they are," she mutters sheepishly.
Occasionally BW floats out to the car on a cloud of cologne, hair just right, clothes immaculately clean and fitting just as they should, makeup on that makes her dazzle, with purse, shoes and belt that match. She looks like she just stepped off the cover of AMAW (America's Most Attractive Women). As soon as she hits the car seat she screams like a pig caught in the fence and moans, "Oh, no. I have a run in my hose." I console her saying, "No one will notice that but you. No one will know it is there except you and me and I promise not to tell." "But," she wails, "I know it is there and I feel like a bag lady wearing a pair of stockings scavenged from the dumpster behind Penney's." "Come on, now," I continue my consoling techniques, "It is above your knee and it is only two inches long. No one will see it." "I can tell you have never worn nylons," she counters, "because at any second that could run like a purse snatcher and be all the way down to my shoe and that will be terrible."
When we arrive and see one of her close friend I mirthfully say, "Don't say anything but BW has a run in her stocking." I then get a knock upside my head but it is worth it. ("Life Gets Tedious Don't It" was sung by Carson Robinson in 1948. Pay me Carolyn.)
Larry grew up north of Calvertville on a farm and graduated from Worthington High School. He lives in Plainfield and can be reached at Goosecrick@aol.com or (317) 839-7656. Write him at Larry Vandeventer 6860 Sunrise Drive, Plainfield, Ind., 46168. He has written five books.