Nancy seems to be looking forward to our trip to Bali.
I am too.
It is doomed, of course. Like all our holidays.
She knows it and I know it.
Yet here we go again, putting our knives into the toaster all the while knowing that nothing delicious is stuck.
Nancy doesn't even like the sun. Or beaches. Or islands. Or friendly smiling natives. Neither do I.
I think we've both been cursed with the Wandering Grimace gene ... a desire to travel but not to enjoy it.
If euthanasia is legal by the time Nancy is on her death bed (it's only a matter of time until both of these things happen), I will paint a port hole on the wall and tell her she's on a cruise. That oughta do her in.
1 comment:
nice bit of writing. almost like David Sedaris... but not quite.
PS> My word this time was neoplis. which in fact IS a word. Neópolis is a municipality located in the Brazilian state of Sergipe. So there.
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