As noted by careful readers of at least one message on the refrigerator door of my wife's daughter yesterday, the BRD (Beautiful Rich Daughter) does have a vicious streak.
It was expressed cruelly at her Christmas Eve brunch when she presented her mother with an unexpected gift.
A jigsaw puzzle.
She knows, oh yes she knows, how I hate jigsaw puzzles.
I can't stay away from them, no matter how hard I try to ignore them.
So there I go again, erecting the card table for SWMBO (She Who Must Be Obeyed) to dump out the pieces and begin the work.
I hide in front of my computer or try to watch a football game on the television but eventually my eyes are drawn to that damnable mess on the table in the kitchen.
And before long, I am joining my wife at the torture of seeking out pieces that do not belong, or pieces that obviously have fallen off the table and have been kicked under the refrigerator, or pieces that the puzzlemaster surely has left out of the box.
Yesterday, I think it was though all awareness of time has vanished like the missing puzzle pieces, this was our progress on the enigma in our formerly happy home.
It's a little futher along now but we still have miles, miles I say sadly, to go before we sleep.
(to be continued)
