CLANK!
I nearly jumped out of my saggy, age-spotted, bone-dry, old-lady skin. What in the Not-Heaven? My attention had been on the dogs. They were frolicking this time, rather than my Sweet, Sweet Juno creeping in trying to steal the last of Jack's cat kibble. They were over by the steps. Nowhere near the CLANK. I whirled around, expecting that perhaps part of the roof had fallen off.
It was a spade.
I have no idea where that spade came from! I've never seen it before. I pretty much have a mental catalog of the junky items perched around the side porch. NO IDEA. It was not on the shelf next to the roaster pan of cat kibble. I had just treated the dogs from it. I've never seen it laying on that cooler below.
It was as if spades were raining from the sky!
What kind of plague hath Farmer H wrought?
Maybe Farmer H planted it there so it would fall, and he was hoping that you would then injure your foot on the spade... because he was worried your heart might become so fond from his absence that you'd start going into town to find someone to converse with?
ReplyDeleteRaining cats & dogs, maybe, but not spades & trowels!!
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteNo. More likely Farmer H wanted it to injure my head. Addled by a brain injury, I would be more likely to stay with him, even after he's underfoot during full retirement.
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fishducky,
EITHER would take some special kind of umbrella!
One wonders about strange things popping up so unexpectedly ....
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteI suppose I'm lucky it was only ONE spade, and not a shower of them.