When I was but a wee tot, I sat on the floor of our trailer and ate my supper of butter noodles in front of the teevee. Buttered racing wheels to be exact.
In a style of humor I still don't understand, my father used to stand between me and the television completely blocking my view. I would say, "Mr Dada: Can't see good," or so I've been told.
But this entry is about glasses. Sun glasses. And how mine came to be lost. Not so much lost as left. I know exactly where they are. I believe it was Highway 160.
It went like this: I got a text. It said, You look cute in sunglasses, however, I can't see your pretty eyes. I then proceeded to stick my head out the window and phwawmpt they were gone.
I watched them tumble right off my head, onto the road, like desert tumbleweed bouncing through the wind. I pulled myself back into the house, sat down, and sent a reply. Okay fine, glasses....gone.
And then I made myself a plate of buttered noodles.
In a style of humor I still don't understand, my father used to stand between me and the television completely blocking my view. I would say, "Mr Dada: Can't see good," or so I've been told.
But this entry is about glasses. Sun glasses. And how mine came to be lost. Not so much lost as left. I know exactly where they are. I believe it was Highway 160.
It went like this: I got a text. It said, You look cute in sunglasses, however, I can't see your pretty eyes. I then proceeded to stick my head out the window and phwawmpt they were gone.
I watched them tumble right off my head, onto the road, like desert tumbleweed bouncing through the wind. I pulled myself back into the house, sat down, and sent a reply. Okay fine, glasses....gone.
And then I made myself a plate of buttered noodles.
No comments:
Post a Comment