Brought To You By Tromboner or Is It Ist?

I was preparing to put up more Puddles and Whiskers along with some other fiction when life in all of its hilarity interrupted.

We live on close to 2 acres. I have no clue how 2 acres is different from close to 2 acres, especially when I am out there with a push mower trying to cut the grass. I can say with certainty now that all further lawn mowings will be done in three stages to cut down (ha) on the grief to my body. The very visible front will get cut first. Then the semi-visible, but used more often by all us back-front yard (yes that is what I am calling it). Finally, the rarely seen or used back forty. And did I mention all of the gopher tunnels and holes?

If I have not, consider them mentioned. With some go pro cameras I could start Gopher Mansion. Hopefully people would turn in to watch the gophers do gopher things, such as dig really long tunnels and giant entrances that the lawn mower hates. See hilarity.

Which is how I started my day, finishing mowing the lawn. Thankfully, there was only the back-front yard and back forty to do, a good breeze, and low temperature otherwise I might have ended up like the first day of mowing which was in a lot of pain and trying not to puke my guts up. I really need to learn my limits.

Mowing done, I sat in front of fan watching TV when there was a weak knock at the door. Nobody knocks. Not even the county sheriff who was looking for a former resident. That was funny too. Back to the weak knock. We have woodish floors and I was wearing socks. Slipping and falling (like a baby dear on asphalt) I found my way to the door, where a very exhausted FedEx delivery man stood. He pointed next to the door, where the kids iron bunk bed box leaned against the door. The driver had dragged the huge and very heavy box from his truck at the farthest point of the driveway (why he parked on the street I will never know), up the steps, and to the door. Instead of every other delivery driver and pulling into the driveway and walking to the much closer back door.

And the topper for the day, waiting for my boy to get out of school, I had been told at some point he would be bringing his trombone home. Sure, sure is what I said. Today was that day. Watching him carry a trombone case that is close to his size and weighs more than he would like to carry was hilarious. But not to be out done by…

“Need to practice today?” I ask.

“Yes, some basics and how to assemble it.”

“Assemble it?”

“Yeah, I need to get faster. My fellow tromboner is much faster than I am.”

I have never been so happy to be stuck at a red light so I could laugh my ass off. Tromboner indeed.

Puddles and Whiskers tomorrow.

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