bogeyandruby

Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

I found a crumb on my bosom the other day. That’s where they usually land when I eat. The less buxom among us find them in their lap.

I have this habit of changing my clothes right before I eat. Depends on what I’m already wearing (anything light or white, for example) and what we’re eating (anything that isn’t white) but I usually cover all the bases by putting on something that hides tomato sauce stains really well, like my navy blue Canadiens tee shirt.

If it’s supper time and I plan on wearing said tee shirt to bed later, without looking like a crime scene, I will take extra precautions and tuck several sheets of paper towel into my collar. You see, I have a bad habit of multi-tasking when I eat, not mindful at all, and my shirt knows it.

Back to the crumb. Wasn’t meal time but I had eaten a snack a little earlier. Didn’t think twice when I pinched that morsel between my thumb and forefinger and popped it in my mouth.

I don’t know what I expected. Knowing me, I probably hoped for sweet but resigned myself to the possibility it might be salty.

Well folks, it was neither. Ever tasted bird pellets? Not the poopy kind but rather the seeds. Betty White flinging her food around again. Landed on my chest. Tasted like stale cardboard. And I ate the whole thing.

At least it didn’t leave a stain.

Next blog topic: what not to eat on a first date.

Betty White

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