Strung into sentences
Treadled into tales.
I read a book, Aunt Dimity’s Death, which really has me thinking about my insipid letter writing skills. One of the bits of the novel is that the two deceased “main” characters wrote letters to each other for 40 years. After reading one of the letters, Bill (another character) says, “No wonder your mother treasured this friendship. Can you imagine getting letters like that all the time?” Yes, I write a lot of letters. But, are they worthy letters? And the same with my blog–is it worthwhile?
What the letters in the novel had, which mine often do not, were gentle, humorous recountings of ordinary events. I think that I don’t give the mundane it’s due. Today I shall.
It was that time of week again–no milk, no shampoo, no Milano cookies. It was time for a trip to Wal-Mart. After church, I called home for any last minute purchase ideas. TGD held up the phone to a chorus of “Get gum! Aren’t we out of milk? Mom, can you pick up folders for me?” Thankfully, I didn’t wreck the van while holding the phone to my ear and scribbling down all these requests, the steering wheel doubling as a writing desk.
Our Wal-Mart is being reorganized, which means that everything is moved around. Do you want vitamins? Half of them are where they used to be, and the other half is moved to its new home. Somehow the Comet and Ajax didn’t make the move at all and have been missing from the shelves for about three weeks. My toilets are sad.
Generally, I like Wal-Mart, even in its disheveled (dis-shelve-eled) state. However, I’m growing rather annoyed by one unexpected feature of this move–static electricity. Whenever I walk through the grocery and toiletries section, I build up a nasty static charge so that every time I get an item from a shelf, I give myself a severe shock. I’ve even had to develop a system where I touch the shelf with the side of my hand (where the shock doesn’t hurt as badly).
And then I found ten dollars.
See? I’ll never be an Aunt Dimity.
