Wednesday, January 03, 2007
My apologies for the hiatus.
I had planned to finish my tale of what I like to call "The Case of the Nottinghamshiretonville Incident," or "the Nottinghamshiretonville Incident" for short, the day after I posted the original, but due to some unforeseen difficulties and delays, this is the first time since that day I've actually had access to the Interwebs.
As a matter of fact, it's a long, involved, entertaining, and possibly true story that, if you don't mind, I'd like to share here:
It started one morning, around noonish. Well, it was actually 9:13 A.M., but that's beside the point. I awoke early, as is my custom, and...
[Note to self: Join Baker Street Irregulars.]
Sorry.
Sudden thought.
Anyway, I was up one morning, possibly meditating, probably cooking myself a hearty breakfast to give me the energy needed to sit around doing nothing.
Enter my mother, carrying a steaming mug of hot cocoa. She convinced me that she made it for me, and I hesitantly accepted.
I took a sip, noting an unusual taste but merely attributing it to my mother's recipe.
My mother's recipes are full of unusual tastes.
I drained the cup and began rinsing it out in the sink when I began to feel a little woozy. I stumbled over to the couch, thinking that if I sat down, the sudden dizzy spell might suddenly clear up.
Nothing doing.
So I decided to lie down for a bit, take a short nap, nothing irregular there.
I awoke several hours later and saw that I was buckled into a red minivan heading south at a clip of around seventy miles per hour. After I had deduced this from the rate of the stripes on the road, I noticed the speedometer, and, more notably, the person behind it, who happened to be driving the vehicle.
She said, "Oh, are you finally up?"
I replied, "Ma, if you had asked, I probably would have come. You didn't need to slip...I'm guessing, here...twenty...five, maybe?...grams of Symoxin into my cocoa."
"Yeah, you're probably right. I only used twenty-three grams, though."
"Ah. I over-estimated the effects of the caffeine in the hot chocolate. Rookie mistake."
"That's okay, Jeff, you're young, don't worry. I'm sure you'll get knocked out many times over before you're done."
"Oh, thank you, Mom."
Ah well.
I'll continue "The Case of the Nottinghamshiretonville Incident" another time.
With all due respect,
jdogmoney
As a matter of fact, it's a long, involved, entertaining, and possibly true story that, if you don't mind, I'd like to share here:
It started one morning, around noonish. Well, it was actually 9:13 A.M., but that's beside the point. I awoke early, as is my custom, and...
[Note to self: Join Baker Street Irregulars.]
Sorry.
Sudden thought.
Anyway, I was up one morning, possibly meditating, probably cooking myself a hearty breakfast to give me the energy needed to sit around doing nothing.
Enter my mother, carrying a steaming mug of hot cocoa. She convinced me that she made it for me, and I hesitantly accepted.
I took a sip, noting an unusual taste but merely attributing it to my mother's recipe.
My mother's recipes are full of unusual tastes.
I drained the cup and began rinsing it out in the sink when I began to feel a little woozy. I stumbled over to the couch, thinking that if I sat down, the sudden dizzy spell might suddenly clear up.
Nothing doing.
So I decided to lie down for a bit, take a short nap, nothing irregular there.
I awoke several hours later and saw that I was buckled into a red minivan heading south at a clip of around seventy miles per hour. After I had deduced this from the rate of the stripes on the road, I noticed the speedometer, and, more notably, the person behind it, who happened to be driving the vehicle.
She said, "Oh, are you finally up?"
I replied, "Ma, if you had asked, I probably would have come. You didn't need to slip...I'm guessing, here...twenty...five, maybe?...grams of Symoxin into my cocoa."
"Yeah, you're probably right. I only used twenty-three grams, though."
"Ah. I over-estimated the effects of the caffeine in the hot chocolate. Rookie mistake."
"That's okay, Jeff, you're young, don't worry. I'm sure you'll get knocked out many times over before you're done."
"Oh, thank you, Mom."
Ah well.
I'll continue "The Case of the Nottinghamshiretonville Incident" another time.
With all due respect,
jdogmoney
