This morning I looked up shiggy in the Urban Dictionary. Turns out I was pretty close.
The difference I speak of is the level of noise in our house, which has gone from Fast & Furious in Dolby Surround Sound to distant birds chirping in trees on the far side of an alpine meadow.
I can’t figure out the scam, but there must be money in it or they wouldn’t be doing it.
Well, it was my mail-order bride now, to keep and to care for.
I think I’m ready now to stop adding watches to my collection (I hear Donna saying “yeah, right” from the other end of the house).
The title of this post is, of course, from Stephen Foster’s song, “Old Folks at Home.” Which is where we are, thank goodness.
In my day, aircraft instrument panels came with round dials, and lots of ’em.
If asked, I’d say Donna and I would rather cook with gas.