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I carry a purse.
This isn’t unusual.
I carry lots of necessities in it.
Kleenex.
Cosmetics.
Gum.
A small first-aid kit.
A screwdriver.
Pliers.
A flashlight.
Assorted small toys to entertain grandchildren.
A book.
Used Kleenex.
Medications.
Nailclippers.
But there is not (and never has been) a kitchen sink.
I just thought I’d mention that.
My Husby teases me about my purse.
With many and varied references to said kitchen sink.
Sigh.
I have discovered that he is not alone in this.
Let me explain . . .
We were holidaying aboard a tall ship in the Mediterranean.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Our ship was anchored in the bay near Santorini.
Let me take the opportunity to encourage you to go.
It’s . . . nice.
Moving on . . .
The ship was sending us pampered passengers to the island in
the launch.
There were helpful attractive-young-men-persons to help us
on and off.
One elderly couple were a trifle concerned during this
process.
The woman, perched precariously between sea and sky, dropped
her purse.
Before it could hit the water, it was snatched from grief by
a quick-witted (and very fast) attractive-young-man-person.
Who proceeded to hand it back to its owner, now safely on
board.
She thanked him graciously and commended him for his
lightning reflexes and quick wits. Then she turned to her husband.
“It probably would have been all right, wouldn’t it, hon? It
would have floated for a few seconds at least.”
Her husband grinned at my husby. A conspiratorial man-grin. “Are
you kidding?” he asked. “Straight to the bottom! Kitchen sinks don’t float!”
See?
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| Our steed. |
