Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Code Red

There must be a rare breed of person who actually likes answering a telephone. And I have to think Cancun is awash with them. Here where I live there's mostly a strong desire to place the onus of answering the telephone upon someone else. And too there are acceptable and unacceptable times for the telephone to ring. My own preference is for it to ring when I'm nowhere near it, and quite why we have one I'm never certain. Then the telephone rings at the waking hour.

"It's code red." I was advised. Not particularly informative, because while there are parts of life that are a tad hazy, I don't believe The Artist was ever once in something like a Commando Unit, or an Urban Attack Squad. All the same her reaction to "Code Red" lacked any kind of panic or concern and she walked to take a good look out of the kitchen windows. For those who might be interested, "Code Red" is a more up to date iteration of that old faithful and infinitely more civilized "get under a sturdy work bench." The hail was about the size and shape of a Lima Bean, or a Broad Bean which cannot be good for Mockingbirds

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