So we are taking Spilly to see the Beatles on Saturday. Not the real Beatles, of course. We are all going to see "Rain." I ordered the tickets close to a year ago. They've been sitting on our fridge door, held there by a fridge magnet, for months and months.
Till today.
They are nowhere to be seen. Hubby and I searched high and low, turned the whole house upside down, while Spilly ran around alternating between wringing her hands and saying, "Oh dear, oh dear," and bursting into whatever room we were in, shouting, "I've found them!"
Finally she settled for sitting on the kitchen stool like a cabaret singer, holding a pretend microphone to her mouth and crooning softly to herself, "We can't find the tickets. We don't know where they are. What will we doooo?"
We think we know who to point the finger at--the same person who removed a lot of the fridge magnets just recently and stuck them on the radiator in the hallway, spelling useful words like "Susan" and "silly."
But she's not talking, mostly because she lives in the rare and wonderful World of Spills, where flowers talk and butterflies churn milk.
Fortunately, at the low low cost of $25.00, we have arranged for replacement tickets to be waiting at the concert hall for us.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment