There were holes in the sheets on the couch I was sleeping on. My mother didn’t understand that there were sheets that didn’t have holes, only, for me? I got the sheets with the holes. The point is, there’s plenty of linen, I’m guessing, just a guess here, but there must be years and years of accumulated linen; however, I get the sheets with holes.
I mentioned the holes and she offered to iron on a patch. I was hoping I could get sheets without holes. When I left, the couch was remade for a cousin. She got the sheets with no holes. But not me.
Decaf Alternative:At times, it’s a cruel trick, but given the times? The situation? Funeral, memorial and all? I stopped by the store and bought some coffee. Decaf. Decaf French Roast, but decaffeinated, nonetheless.
Might sometimes be a cruel joke, but then, as an example, Sister, the two cousins, mother, they were all drinking coffee, swilling it like they were trying to drown their sorrows. While decaf won’t really work? It’s got an emotional appeal. I would wake up with just a cup of that stuff. The smell, the feel of oily coffee roiling in the mouth, rolling off the tongue? Works.
The decaf was to keep tempers and emotions down to a dull roar. Seemed to work – until they all read this.
But I’m home now, and I’m having my own coffee, now. Strong enough to remove lacquer – the way I like it.
When the going gets tough?
Think I’ll go fishing.