Hello everybody

I got back five hours ago and talked to my husband, answered some emails, checked what the markets did for the last few days while I have been zipping around all over the place on trains and buses and automobiles. 

Then I settled down to write a nice long cozy blog to you. 

BUT did that happen?

No.

Why not, you might ask.

Well… Rog & Jim came home. 

“Hi,“ I said, sticking my head out into the hall. 

“Oh, you’re back,“ Rog (aka the polite one said)

“I have a bone to pick with you,“ Jim (the rude one, in case you haven’t figured it out) bellowed.  “I want to show you something.“  And he grabbed my hand and high-stepped me into my bedroom.  “The windows won’t open, my ass,“ he said, (or something to that ilk.)  He proceeded to show me, not one, but two windows that opened quite nicely, screens on them and everything.  I hadn’t noticed them because I had the blinds crooked shut. 

“Oh,“ I said, trying to look contrite, but I’m afraid the effect was spoiled by the fits of giggles that had overwhelmed me.

“Did you mention how we took care of you?“ he said, arm sweeping dramatically up into the air.  “That we raced to the corner store to get Sprite for you.“

“That we were so worried,“ Rog pipes in. 

And they were worried.  I know they were.  Rog called 911 for God’s sake.  I’m barfing my guts out and other things too, but Rog has me on the phone with some long-winded nurse, when all I want to do is die, who was forcing me to talk through my pain and nausea to answer a million (and I am not kidding) questions.

“I know, I know,“ I said, still unable to get control of my laughter.  “And you were so good to me, and I am grateful.“

“That’s not what you said on your blog,“ Jim sniffed.  Hand held out towards me like a traffic cop, head averted, nose tipped towards the ceiling in a noble posture.

“I couldn’t write much,“ I said deciding I better go for the sympathy angle, “I was so sick.  I just wrote what I did, so that people would know that I wasn’t faking it.“

“We didn’t cook our food on the stove top like we normally do,“ Roger added.  “We micro-waved it, so there wouldn’t be as much smell.“

“And what about the jello I made for you,“ Jim say in a woebegone voice, but already I can tell I am forgiven.

Actually.  For those of you who are new comers to my blog and don’t know my beloved Rog & Jim.  I was always forgiven.  This is just the way weird people (us) have fun.

ANYWAY… Rog & Jim, if you are reading this blog, thank you.  My Sunday/Monday torment, would have been a million times worse had you not been there.  You were my rocks and I owe you one.  You need a favor… consider it done!

            * * *

Okay.  Now I shall write what I was really going to write about before I was so rudely high-jacked, by my two, slightly tipsy B & B owners, forced to listen to their outraged tirade and then made to sit on the sofa and enjoy a drink and exchange unmentionable stories and howl with laughter for four hours until, finally a few minutes before midnight, I have managed to excruciate myself from all that fun and am blogging to you, before another couple days go by.  But I shall do it on another entry so this one won’t be too long and daunting.

Posted by Meg Tilly on Wednesday, November 19, 2008 in Chewing the Fat