Anyway, for those of you not in the know - taps side of nose in highly irritating fashion - Twitter allows only a limited number of characters per message and sometimes that limit means you need to take shortcuts with the way you tweet. k., my imaginatively named friend of the single initial*, is not on Twitter but does follow my tweets online in lieu of being forced to engage in any direct conversation with me.
My Twitter correspondent, realising that I have two kayaks and often ferry them about together on top of my car, asked how I managed to get the second kayak on top of the first all by my little old lonesome. Imagine k.'s surpreez, not all of it pleasant, when upon reading my tweets she stumbled across the necessarily abbreviated answer I had given to this query:
I lean k against back of car & slide on but takes practice. Can be done.We're still friends, of course, but I've noticed she's taken to wearing a lot of pants lately. She knows I'm all thumbs around buttons.
(Oh come on. I know you laughed. You did.)
*I was berated - yes, berated - for this careless, thoughtless and downright hurtful slackness on my part this very morning. And yet given the content of the rest of this part of the post I suppose I'd be in even more trouble if I described it as a tongue lashing.
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I was humbly minding my own business at work yesterday afternoon when k. called. She sounded taken aback that I answered the phone.
"I guess I just assumed you'd be out on the town. Living it up."
"Oh lovely. Nice way to essentialise me: 'It's Friday so haze must be out somewhere getting pissed.'"
"No, no, no, you completely misunderstand me. It's nothing to do with it being Friday. It's a day, and it's after 4pm."
I couldn't sulk for too long: when you think about it, she was acknowledging I still have standards.
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