Monday, December 17, 2012

I'll be Back After the Paint Dries and the Watched Pot Boils

Val's internet is slow tonight, my friends. Slow. Like a line inching its way forward in a bakery to buy the last chocolate babka. Slow. Like an old lady tottering along, fiercely defending her marble rye from a scofflaw on the streets of New York.

Not slow in a good way. Like rocking on your front porch reading the home-town paper while waiting for the fireworks display to start.

SLOW! Like the old man in the car in front of you on two-lane winding blacktop, when you really wish you had stopped by the bathroom before leaving work. Like an eight-year-old telling you the plot of a Disney sitcom word-for-word while you are fourth in line at the DMV.

Not slow in a relaxing way. Like drifting down a clear, two-foot-deep creek on a lazy July afternoon, resting on a three-dollar yellow air mattress from the Dollar Store.

SLOW!!! Like a recalcitrant child dawdling over his lone household chore of taking out the trash and putting in a tall kitchen trash bag.

I just don't have the patience for this tonight.


  1. Slow, like the poky pace of the song "Desperado," which everyone should honor by shutting up and listening to it every time it's on the radio?

  2. Listening toan eight year old...word for word...oh how painful. Not reduce the age by three or four years and you kow what I go through every Friday at Show and Tell.
    My computer is poky too.

  3. Sioux,
    Yes. Unless you have the urge to dance to it. Be sure to use your thumbs, and little kicks. Might I suggest another song for your dancing pleasure? Try Wit-chay Woman.

    I certainly hope they throw in a buttload of "AND...UM" for you. Glad to know someone else is suffering right along with me on the computer front.