Waiter, there's a fly in my ointment.

Vanna is wearing a turquoise chiffon gown with shirred empire halter bodice, front slit, train, and Aurora rhinestone trim around waist.  So am I.  No, wait. Not quite, but I am sort of dressed up by my standards.  I'm attired in a knit top with 3/4 sleeves, shirred shoulders, and a draped neckline that shows a bit of actual cleavage.  Shh!  Don't tell.  I have on slacks, too.  I'm headed to the theater.

Except not.  Dad, the Great Minimizer, is reporting pain in his leg.  His pain is not relieved by Tylenol. Dad never reports pain, so this is significant.  It minimizes the annoyance of the malfunctional t.v. in his new shared room.

The t.v. is on.  The t.v. is off.  The t.v. is possessed. Gremlins.  Yup.

The t.v. stays on through a marathon of Judge Judy and Nightly News with clips of Newt chittering like a chunky middle-school hamster after a dozen Pixie Stix.  [I have the sound down realllll low.] Then, inexplicably, right when I'm ready to solve the lip-reading puzzle on Wheel and win a trip to tropical paradise, the t.v. is off.

I'm blurting out "A PRIVATE EYE SEARCHING FOR FLIES", then all dark.  Ten minutes later the t.v. is back on in the middle of "A KETTLE OF SEAFOOD GUMBO".

CLUES.  Not FLIES.  Well, duh. PRIVATE EYES IN GUMBO???

Some of Dad's discomfort may come from enraged eczema.  Thus the ointment is needed in his stew.

fly in my soup  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1C8nl8eBoq0


fly in the ointment

Fig. a small, unpleasant matter that spoils something; a drawback. We enjoyed the play, but the fly in the ointment was not being able to find my hat afterward. It sounds like a good idea, but there must be a fly in the ointment somewhere.

Yesterday I rescued a June bug from the lunch room and "returned it to the wild!" I've been hanging out in preschool so long I can't even stomp on a overturned June bug with creepy wiggling legs, or at least not in front of the kiddies.  Soon I won't be able to flush a cockroach in private.

Dad is out of pain on a narcotic.  The x-rays showed no fracture or dislocation.  The soup is in the crockpot. My life has too much drama and too little theater.

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder