Carrots! Tiny, tiny carrots!
I’m reading a basic college art history textbook. It’s full of interesting words that don’t make good sentences. A typical paragraph is one I only re-read a couple of times, but I’ve re-read a few whole pages like I have a new hobby.
Example: “[Some guy] was the architect on the [blah blah] temple, first to use [some damn thing] to [I give up, what?]. Never before had [architectural features] done [some remarkable crap we thought was invented in 1850, because we are slow children.]
It has crossed my mind that maybe I’m reading badly filled out Madlibs with gorgeous pictures.
Unabashed eavesdropping! Unabashed!
Siobhan’s laid up in the local hospital. Pete had errands to run and hates hospitals, so he dropped me off, barely slowing the car enough for me to make a heroic leap. I brought her coffee and flirted with the occupational therapist. Afterward, Pete and I got to have lunch together like two people who do that. At the next table, a man I couldn’t see told his companions about the time his house was burglarized. “It was a long time ago,” he said.
He and his wife were upstairs when someone broke in and they caught him. The burglar got away.
“Did you ever get your property back?” a voice asked.
“No, he didn’t get much. A computer, part of my wallet, some credit cards. I didn’t get that back.”
But the story took a remarkable turn: the burglar came back the next night. The man’s wife was folding laundry and saw the burglar trying to get break in, right in front of her. They called the police and the burglar was arrested. He did five years.
I’m thinking the burglar could’ve benefitted from some vocational training. Obviously, he was really bad at crime. And locksmithing. Perhaps he could have become a fine plumber.