Today is Saturday which means no work. I found some cords I have not worn in a long time. I like cords, but sometimes if you spill things in the cord grooves they get stuck and stick to the cords. They looked nice, and we had to get to my cousins for a birthday dinner, so I felt the cords would work best.
We got to the party and everybody was there. My cousin designs custom furniture. He asked me if I wanted a tour of his work area in the garage. I agreed and out to the garage we went. I was impressed with the desks he had been working on, but was tired of standing. I turned and saw a cement garden bench to sit on, so I sat. Within 2 seconds of sitting on the bench I found myself sitting on my rear end on the floor covered in a wet, dusty, odorous cement mess. My cousin turned and screamed so loud. I was embarrassed and offered to help clean up the mess. Now his bench was on sale.
This cement bench he had designed and made earlier that day was a memory (memorial) bench. It was cement bench with the ashes of his customers (cremated) late wife sprinkled into the cement to create like a memory area for her in the garden of his customers house. He would rather her be made into a bench than sit in an urn above the fireplace. The customer said it would be symbolic, the bench would hold and cary him, just like his late wife carried him.
The problem is that ash and cement were lodged into my cord canals and I did my best to pick them out, but still lots of ash remained. We panicked and tried to make fake new ashes for a new bench. We burned toilet paper and collected the ashes. We mixed it in a bowl with cinnamon and seeds of sorts trying to come up with synthetic ashes. I hope it works for the customer. The fake cremated ashes looked good enough, but I worried about the cinnamon smell. I feel as if the incident ruined the party, I mean why did my cousin not have police tape around the bench. Or it sectioned off with a sign saying wet cement, what a dummy! I went home and washed my cords, to get the rest of the cement and ash off. When I went to throw the cords in the dryer something pricked my finger. It was half of a finger nail with a few little diamond chips still on the tip. I screamed, and my wife came in. It was the dead ladies finger nail, that did not burn during the cremation! We did not know what to do about it,so we just buried it in the backyard.
Without a doubt it was a strange day, but one which helped me understands, that like the bench, life can be fragile. Within the cord canals of our lives lies history, and stories of those gone on before whom somehow influence our lives, RIP diamond tips.
I, like you other 3 readers, am sinking very rapidly into a state of depression. I need something to help me Beat It. I guess its Human Nature to feel this way. I just remember The Way You Make Me Feel Michael and it makes me sad or maybe Bad. I Just Can't Stop Loving You, you Smooth Criminal. It's time I take a step back and look at the Man in the Mirror, and try to Heal the World, but I will always Remember The Time when you burnt your hair filming the Pepsi commercial, because it was Dangerous and for the first time really find myself struggling asking my self am I Black or White. Amen.
