Aristotle
The antidote for fifty enemies is one friend.
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The customer ordering a floral arrangement from my shop was giving me very specific guidelines. “Nothing fragrant,” she instructed. “Nothing too tall or too wild. And no bright colors, please. My house is decorated in beige and cream. Here is a wallpaper sample.” She handed me a plain square of tan-colored paper.
“Your name?” I asked.
“Mrs. Bland,” the woman replied.
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When a fellow piano tuner was ill, I took over his assignment of tuning a piano in a girls’ boardinghouse. While I was at work, several of the girls strolled casually through the room in various states of undress. The climax came when a young lady in startling deshabille appeared to pay the bill.
As I was writing the receipt, she suddenly gave me a bewildered look, then fled, screaming, “That’s not our regular man!”
Their regular man is blind.
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My nephew, a flight attendant, split the back of his pants one day during a flight. To save embarrassment, he decided to work in front of the beverage cart, facing forward.
The arrangement worked perfectly until he got to the last row and a passenger leaned over to him and said in a low voice, “Your fly is open.”
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During the mortgage closing on our summer house, my wife and I were asked to sign documents containing small print. When I asked if I should read it, my attorney replied, “Legally, you should. But here’s the bottom line: If you pay your installments on time, there is nothing in there that could harm you. Should you stop paying, however, there is definitely nothing in the small print that can save you.”
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Bad weather meant I was stuck overnight at O’Hare airport in Chicago. Along with hotel accommodations, the airline issued each passenger a $10 meal ticket, or “chit.” That evening after dinner I presented my meal ticket to the cashier.
“Is this chit worth $10?” I asked.
Looking up nervously, the cashier responded, “I’m sorry, sir. Was the meal that bad?”
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My wife and I run a small restaurant where we often name our specials after our employees—dishes like “Chicken Mickey,” after our dishwasher who gave us the recipe, and “Rod’s Ribs,” after a waiter who had his personal style of barbecue. One evening after rereading the menu, I broke with this tradition and changed the description of the special we had named after our chef.
Despite her skills and excellent reputation, somehow I didn’t think an entrée named “Salmon Ella” would go over big with our customers.
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The speaker at my bank’s drive-through window had been broken for weeks, and we tellers had to resort to miming or writing notes to communicate with our frustrated customers. One day a sweet elderly lady whom I would see every week pulled up to the window, leaned out of her car and smacked the glass in front of my face.
“Hope this is bulletproof,” she yelled.
There had just been a robbery at another bank nearby, so I was touched by her concern. “It is,” I yelled back.
“Good,” she continued, “because someone is going to shoot you if you don’t get that speaker fixed.”
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I feel inadequate when talking with a mechanic, so when my vehicle started making a strange noise, I sought help from a friend. He drove the car around the block, listened carefully, then told me how to explain the difficulty when I took it in for repair.
At the shop I proudly recited, “The timing is off, and there are premature detonations, which may damage the valves.”
As I smugly glanced over the mechanic’s shoulder, I saw him write on his clipboard “Lady says it makes a funny noise.”
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Security and peace of mind were part of the reason we moved to a gated community. Both flew out the window the night I called a local pizza shop for a delivery. “I’d like to order a large pepperoni, please,” I said, then gave him the address of our condominium.
“We’ll be there in about half an hour,” the kid at the other end replied. “Your gate code is still 1238, right?”
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After shopping at a busy store, another woman and I happened to leave at the same time, only to be faced with the daunting task of finding our cars in the crowded parking lot. Just then my car horn beeped, and I was able to locate my vehicle easily.
“Wow,” the woman said. “I sure could use a gadget like that to help me find my car.”
“Actually,” I replied, “that’s my husband.”
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My friend is notorious for waiting until the needle is on empty before filling his gas tank. Finally his car died on him, and we had to push it to the nearest filling station. After my friend finished pumping gas, the attendant asked if he had learned anything.
“Yeah,” my friend muttered, “I learned I have a 15-gallon tank.”
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My sister Darlene has the courage—but not always the skills—to tackle any home-repair project. For example, in her garage are pieces of a lawn mower she once tried to fix. So I wasn’t surprised the day my other sister, Jesse, and I found Darlene attacking her vacuum cleaner with a screwdriver.
“I can’t get this thing to cooperate,” she explained.
“Why don’t you drag it out to the garage and show it the lawn mower?” Jesse suggested.
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Good morning everyboomie.
This week is humping right along.
It's time for me to start mowing again, and that's just what I did this evening. It felt pretty cool outside to me, at 7:30, so I rushed out to mow my yard inside the fence. I jumped on my mower without realizing that the seat had a half gallon of water in it.
It was just a cool mowing session all in all.......and under all.
Still have to mow outside the yard, and across the street.
I found two points today out at the sod farm. It was a hot day as far as that was concerned.
When I got back home, I was worn out.
Gotta go dig up something to eat now.
Have a happy day everyone.
joe
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Good Morning Joe and Ana. Joe congrats on finding 2 points! 
Ana sounds like you are having a stressful time. Sending you hugs! 
Coffee and tea are ready. 
How's things? 
