Made it, just.
Time 6.00 pm. and home from Mother's.
Telephone rings.
Drop bags and run in case it's a telemarketer and I miss slamming the receiver down on the wage slave.
Me: Yeah
Mother: When did the doctor say to take the pills?
Me: Every four hours for the past 12 months.
Mother: When should I have taken the last ones?
Me: Three o'clock.
Mother: Am I late taking them now?
Me: Just a tad.
Mother: When's the hairdresser coming?
Me: She'll ring me tomorrow and come next week.
Mother: The blood people are coming on Wednesday.
Me: Fine.
Mother: Now I've got it all straight, the doctor came today, the blood people come Wednesday, the hairdresser comes next week and I take the tablets every four hours.
Me: What's today?
Mother: Tuesday.
5 comments:
I thought today was Tuesday too (honestly) and couldn't see the joke.
Well there you are, that's what being an artist does to you; as a crim I always knew what day it was.
And who's the Premier of Victoria?
Henry Bolte.
OK, pretty damn close mum, most of us'd be pushed to note much difference these days.
I'd just got home after explaining all this several times Rh and I have to think what day it is too.
Listen Sedg, do you have to keep raising the spectre of that vile little creep. What a pair of bookends he and the rodent would make....in a house of horrors.
Henry's parents ran the pub at Linton and he married the girl whose parents ran the pub at Skipton.
He couldn't help running the state the way you'd run a pub.
That's right, he watered down everything and shortchanged us.
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