The futility of asking a man what he is thinking

I’m rather late out of the starting blocks, so if there is any left, humour me too.

This piece will have to be printed and kept close to hand as the answer for those moments when precisely this happens: being asked a quesion by Wifey when my noggin is somewhere else.

If it does not answer the question correctly, at least it is funny, which as I can tell, was it’s real intent.

I’m also glad I no longer carry a hammer all the time. Fewer and fewer posts and comments look like nails and it’s a lot easier to see the humour in many more things.

Thanks Colette for the head, heart and laughter workout.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Stanley-Carl du-Pont’s story.