Too morally bound to become a king
The summer room is back in place. Now, with an invitation like that, how can the season let us down? It wasn’t difficult. That is, after I found the bag of carefully folded and stored pieces. Amazing how things get “out of sight, out of mind” in the average home. Gravity. The only explanation I can find, after a careful study of the situation.
We’ve had a noisy houseguest since last evening. Every loud sound, every passerby provokes an outcry. Or, rather, an outbark. Maggie the spaniel is doing what dogs have done from time immemorial. But does being a dog require climbing on couches and tables and chairs? Without care for the person seated therein? She’s not a big animal, so the four paws on the chest is a minor detail.
We’re halfway through season three of the Tudors. My history course “forgot” to mention the vindictive manner of royalty.
Promises are worthless. Hanging one is a waste when you can hang dozens. A moving body on the battlefield invites a secondary stab wound. Infidelity is the new rule of life at court. I’m sorry, but my mother didn’t bring me up that way. If offered a crown, I will have to decline. Oh.. they’re not likely going to ask me? Well that takes a load off my shoulders. Back to more mundane things like cleaning the pool filter, or putting the garbage bins out to the curb.
I’m reticent about bidding for more things (I don’t need) online, now that the postal system is in disarray. Is that a good or a bad thing?
