Gnorts, Vorts:
Here on Vortex we often cite that Epistemological Franciscan Guru,
Ockham, as the filter of truth for theories and speculation. However,
poor William is not always right.
Last Saturday morning, my wife’s alarm went off at 7 am. She inhibited
it immediately and nothing was said until breakfast. Her denial of habit
I attributed to oncoming senility-lite and her Grave’s disease. Nothing
more was said due to my axiom that there are three people with whom you
cannot win an argument:
1) Your boss,
2) Your wife and
3) A Police Officer
Please note that we love to sleep late on the weekend.
This morning Callie, a B&W tabby, who entered our abode under false
pretenses but adhered to the advice that she must “suck up to daddy” if
she was to be allowed to remain, kept urging us to awaken at our normal
working hours (possibly as punishment for our late night at my enlaus).
Ignoring her impetuous insistence, sleep prevailed. That is, until I am
awakened by this clicking sound not unlike a curvaceous and promiscuous
secretary whose typing style is not unlike her supplemental income.
(hunt ‘n pecker).
THE ALARM SOUNDS and much to my chagrin, dear Callie is caught red-pawed
as the culprit.
Being already a half-century old, I shall never complete my penitence.
