Smoke Gets in Your Eyes…

…when your neighbor has a bonfire in his back yard.

That’s right.  AP and I were smoked out of our house this morning when our neighbor decided to burn rubbish in his garden.  We had to abandon ship…bug out…bugger off to another place where we could breath fresh air and where AP could get rid of a headache that was egged on by all the wood smoke that was curling around our windows.

We drove out to the countryside, took the dog for a walk, snooped around some antique centers, and stopped at an outdoor cafe and for lunch. It was all an impromptu date. We had a chance to hold hands and reconnect. We reminisced and laughed at all our shared experiences.

Yet…something was nagging me… there was something…something that needed our attention. And half way through lunch I remembered. Oh yes. I dropped the tall boy off for his official first day of school and he needed to be collected. We were both surprised when we remembered that, oh yes, this boy is now living with us and we now have full parental obligations. We finished eating and paid the bill. We hurried off to get the tall boy and hear all about his first day of school.

And by the way, the only thing he said was that he has to read “stuff by Emily Bronte”.   Wurthering Heights it is, then.

At least I remembered to give him a sandwich this morning as he was leaving the house.

3 thoughts on “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes…

  1. I remember when I had to read “stuff by Emily Bronte” in high school. Surprisingly, I liked it. We also had to read some stuff by Homer, stuff by Charles Dickens, and stuff by Harold Robbins. Actually Harold Robbins was my own idea.

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