They go up. They go down. that's pretty much it.
No. I am sniggering behind my hand at my own cleverness, for this week's post should really be entitled 'why oh why oh why'... do you see what I did there? Oh, you did. Oh well. Anyway. Such is the title because I have been 'tagged'. No, it's not another one of those ankle-jewellery ones, and besides I've been absolutely stringent in not approaching either David Mitchell or Tony Robinson since the last round of injunctions, I know when I am beaten and I have reconciled myself to the fact that neither of these are going to be popping round with an unsuspected diamond and any amount of unrequited longing. No, this is a different form of taggage, one I have been given by the lovely Catherine Miller, on her blog, which you can have a squizz at here ... where she fetchingly entitles it 'why,why,why' but that would give me a blog heading of 'YYY?' which is just odd, even for me. And I am linking to here also, because I think this is where the idea came from, which is right and proper because we all know that 'why?' is a question most often asked by small children, even about things that they already know, because they need to check that the answer hasn't changed in the last five minutes.
Surely I cannot be the only mother in existence who has, from either boredom, shortage of time or sheer devilment, answered the 'why?' question with a variety of answers? For example - 'why are sheep white?'
'well, dear, because they are bred to have white wool because then it's easier to dye it different colours when you're making something from the wool', becomes 'because someone washed them' and then 'because all the blue ones died horribly in a tragic accident'... oh. It was just me... Oh well. That probably explains quite a lot about my children.
So, in the spirit of the 'why', I shall think of some of my own...
Why, when I self-admittedly have all the sensitivity of a large carrot, do I have the ability to feel every tiny little lump in my bed at night? Even weeny little crumbs assume enormity and wedge themselves under my buttocks, ensuring a sleepless night unless I strip the entire sheet off and remake the bed.
Why are clouds? They hang there, in the air, and no-body thinks it is odd. I mean, yes, I get the whole condensation thing but...doesn't anybody else think they are downright suspicious? Especially for things you can't even touch... there will be aliens behind all this, you mark my words.
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| Come on, you can't tell me they're not planning something... |
Toffee. Why? Delicious and everything but, really, just advanced self-dentistry in a block.
Why are weekends so short, compared to any other two days of the week? Take, say, Tuesday and Wednesday. They positively creep past, sixty minute hours and everything, and yet Saturday evening is gone in a flash and two crates of Guinness. Oh. Feel I may have answered my own question there.
And finally. Why, when I buy something and get it home and it isn't what I thought it was going to be, don't I just take it back to the shop? Why do I make excuses for it and fiddle with it and eventually find it a use as something that it patently isn't and isn't even any good at, but keep using it as anyway? I refer you to the lampshade tea-pot cosy, the cordless-drill coat hanger and the treadmill cat-bed.
And now, apparently, I have to tag some other, innocent bloggers, who are probably sitting there all innocently at this moment, staring out over the lovely landscape just outside their windows and thinking of...well, knowing my friends, nothing very much. And I must press them to think of unanswered 'why's' of their own? Just one question there - why?
So, if you are tagged, please feel free to have a tantrum and moan and throw things and never speak to me again... because, here you are...
Margaret James
Kate Johnson
Talli Roland
Sue Jackson
Chris Stovell
Please feel free to ignore me, chaps, but if you want to think of some 'why's' - now is the time to vent your spleen! And, if you can only think of Y-fronts, then come join me in the increasingly feverish attempts to remove the leg-tags!
I'm coming, boys! I'm coming! Just wait for me to get this tag off....
7 comments:
Thanks for the tag, Jane! Must admit, I never thought of clouds as suspicious. I'll never look at them the same way again.
My answer to the 'why' question is because it IS! Thats me when I am irritated beyond belief by little tykes!!! Oh what a grumpy woman, I am!
Right now I'm wondering why I'm making marmalade instead of writing, but I think Tony has just provided the answer which is that it's one of those days when making marmalade means I can avoid the Terror of the Blinking Cursor!
More soon. And I'm so with you on the why of toffee.
Talli and Chris, thank you for your agreements on two of my 'why's. Some people think I'm quite mad..mad, I tell you,mad...mwwhahahahahahaha.
And Pat, yes, I used to do that too. Now, of course, the boot is on the other foot, when I ask my children to explain why something happens on my computer and they answer 'because it just *does*'. Grr.
That has given me a severe attack of indigestion. Memo to self, don't indulge in hilarity on top of a Sunday roast.
Funny but also very true.
I mean your article was funny btw, Jane, not my indigestion.
Good tag, Jane. I'll never forget my neice asking me what (instead of why) a sex shop was. She was about 6 at the time and my sister in law was behind me, snorting. I hesitated adn said, "It's a place where they sell bras and knickers," which I thought was quite a good response. At the time....
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