Here is something you might not want to say shortly after you sit down to a wonderful roast pork Sunday supper.
After the cook receives several compliments on her festive presentation, whereupon she credits the new meat thermometer for her success, don’t say this:
“Where is this new meat thermometer?” please don’t ask. “It’s the one on the fridge,” is the reply.
“Oh,” you must never say. “I thought that was a rectal thermometer.” A stunned silence will follow this comment, if you are a big enough idiot to say it.
“But don’t worry,” you might stupidly follow up. “I used it on the dog.”
This comment is followed up by the agonizing sound of cutlery being dropped from mid-air onto plates.
“The good news is, the dog is fine,” you try to recover. “And it’s okay. I wiped it off on my pants.”
Years ago, my family hired a carpenter to come in and build a penalty box in the rec room downstairs for wayward members of the clan. So far, I have been the only one to have ever used it.
But here is where my loved ones made a critical mistake.
I like sitting in the box and contemplating the wonders of the Universe. Some of my best ideas have been formulated while sitting within its confines.
And I always emerge from my time out invigorated, ready for my next challenge.
It’s a living.
©2022 Jim Hagarty
