You know what I'm talkin' about. We never said that word when I was growing up. My mom use you say, "Did you shoot a rabit?" My kids use to call them barking spiders. Times have changed. Anyway, Monday afternoon the census taker came. Jerry had his dental surgery that day so he was all groggy upstairs on the sofa, when the doorbell rang. Usually, no matter what, when the doorbell rings or Montana barks, Jerry wakes up and wanders around to see what's going on. His step is so quiet and slow that I usually don't hear him. (course, I could be deaf.) In order to save the guy from our attack dog, Montana , I made a bee line for the door. Montana was doing her usual "Montana, the attack dog, bark."
The guy was very nice and I explained that I had mailed my census in last week. He still needed to fill it out in order to check me off his list. It was quick and painless and he didn't ask too many questions. All was good. As he was leaving, we were saying our pleasantries, when I noticed Jerry had snuck up behind me. ( I was hoping to get this guy out before Jerry came wandering down.)
There he was all glassy eyed and drugged up staring at me and this strange guy in the foyer. I introduced them both and then it happened. Without a word, Jerry let out the longest string of farts known to man. I thought I was going to die. Jerry's eyes widened to the size of blue silver dollars and his sheepish grin covered his entire face.
Where's a hole? I need to crawl in it!
I slowly opened the door so the man could run and stated Jerry had just had surgery and was all drugged up. Seems I'm explaining. What's a girl gonna do?