Well, it's not really dancing, straight, white guy, no rhythm you know.
But,if you've been with someone long enough, there's a dance you do together. Maybe you have one of your own. Ours is not very well choreographed but it is well rehearsed. I dust, he vacuums. I make the shopping list and pick things out, he pushes the cart and bags. I get the garbage ready, he drags it out to the curb. He does the lawn, I do the flowers. I lose things, he's the "finder of all lost things." (Except for my glasses, but that's a whole 'nother story.) I have no idea how things work, he can make anything work. I push all the buttons, he reads the manuals. He is actually "the keeper of all the manuals." We have manuals for everything, even things we have long since thrown out. They are in Mr. Truck's special file that no one is allowed to touch.
So it goes like this: "Mr. Truck, how do I turn off the flash on my camera?" "Why?" "For my knitting pictures. See, they look like this,
the red is all faded." (big sigh) "Did you read the manual?" "Manual?" (even bigger sigh) "I'll get it for you." Two days go by. "Mr. Truck, what are you doing?" "Still looking for your camera manual, you must have thrown it out." Another day goes by."I found it!" "What? Where?" "Your camera manual, in the mumble mumble mumble."
"Oh, in the manual file? What does it say?" "It says push that button!" So I pushed that button and look! Much better now.
Mood Ring: Confessions of a serial dyer
1 year ago