I’m Sorry Mr Hurt

So after a night of drinking, the dog woke us up at 2:30 am just in time to crap on the floor as we ran to let her out (she tried…). And no, the dog wasn’t drinking, we were. I only clarify this for the smartasses who will undoubtedly comment.

Too awake to fall asleep, I turn on one of my favorite go-to’s, a Warren Miller movie “Line of Descent” (if you’ve never seen a Warren Miller movie by the way, stop what you are doing and go watch one. Or at the very least, make yourself a reminder to watch one soon. You will thank me. And you will also question all of your life choices. But I digress…) and in one of the scenes, they are in Norway. As I stare at the screen, I mumble, “Sure is beautiful. I wish I knew where Norway was.”

From across the room, Troy says, “Next to Sweden.” To which I answer, “I sure wish I knew where Sweden was.”

I’m going to pause here to apologize to my High School Geography teacher, Mr Hurt, (who also happened to be my drivers ed instructor, which may explain a lot). If I could go back in time, I would pay MUCH more attention. I just never realized that all those places on the map had great stuff and that it was possible to TRAVEL there. That would have changed everything!

Anyway… Troy pulls up a map on his phone and begins to show me where Norway and Sweden are. Hmmm… north of Europe and stuff. Then he pans down and… WOW! Africa is just UNDER all of that. I mean, I’ve seen it, but I never really paid attention. He may have gotten just a little excited that I was learning (or seemed to be), so he continued to point out places on the map (in Africa, and then began to pan East) and when he got to China I stopped him and said, “Okay, you’ve lost me” (the alcohol and lack of sleep had caught up with me), and he laughed and said, “So you’re done?”

My high school brain had kicked in and that was about all I was capable of learning in one sitting. Don’t judge. I’m good at lots of other stuff.

Anyway, as he continues to look at his map, he’s dragging his fingers across the screen, trying to make it larger. “Awww, it won’t pan out any further. That’s a shame” he says.

I burst out laughing. “That’s a shame?!!” And he glances over at me. I jab, “Are you going to pull a butterscotch out of your pocket now and unwrap it for me?”

He gives me a look. “I don’t appreciate you making fun of me.”

So I soften the blow, “Don’t feel bad. This week in Houston, I heard the fountains outside the apartment and I told Doofenshmirtz it sounded like it was ‘raining like gangbusters’, and she teased me all day about that.”

He chuckled and jabbed back, “Are you going to pull a tissue out of your sleeve now and dab at your nose?”

These are the insults 50-something people hurl at each other in the middle of the night.

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