So I had this crackpot idea to hang a piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house. I bought this piece of blue veil 12 years ago, and all this time, I’ve been wondering what to do with it. Its brushed chrome grommets screamed “curtain,” even if it looked like … So much more. It was a piece of blue veil, full of mystery and intrigue.
Have you any idea how much brushed chrome grommets cost, these days? Nor do I, but I remember thinking they were pret-ty pricey when I bought this particular piece of blue veil. Moreover, I paid something like 75 bucks to have a turquoise header and tie-back professionally made and sewn to it.
The piece of blue veil was turquoise back then, but the sun faded it, its header, and its tie-back to a blah-ish blue over the three weeks the piece of blue veil hung on the back wall of the outside of our house.
Don’t bother asking why I did this, because believe me, you don’t want to hear the (ir)rationale behind my crackpot idea to hang a piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house.
On seeing the piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house, the twice-jabbed Appy People who dropped in for same said: “Why’s a shower curtain hanging on the back wall of your house?” The piece of blue veil is not a shower curtain, thank you very much.
Never apologize, never explain: Not wanting the Appy People to think I’d had the crackpot idea to hang a piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house, I glared at Himself with a slight sneer and lip-lift. Let the Appy People draw their own conclusions, I thought.
Two weeks later, when Dinner Peoples’ eyes slid like eggs in a skillet at the piece of blue veil hung on the back wall of the outside of our house, they tactfully said nothing. Perhaps word from the Appy People had already leaked out, and the Dinner People knew better than to ask.
Had they asked, I planned to nod at the piece of blue veil hung on the back wall of the outside of our house, claiming I was about to perform a tasteful rendition of the Dance of the Seven Veils (minus six) as the evening’s entertainment.
When we hung the piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house, I bought a wooden pole Himself painted turquoise to slip through the blue veil’s unaffordable grommets. Maybe I’d say I was also about to perform a tasteful pole dance in addition to a tasteful rendition of the Dance of the Single Veil.
This afternoon, Himself took down the piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house, and I bought a metal goose to take its place.
Standing in line at the hardware store, I told Himself: “This goose is a piece of crap.” As God and Himself are my witnesses, the guy immediately behind us in the lineup gave two thumbs up, as if to say: “You got that right, lady!”
When we fetched up at the cash desk, I said: “This goose is a piece of crap. I’m not sure I’ll actually keep it.” Sotto voce, the cashier leaned in over the counter, saying: “This goose is going on clearance in a few days, so why don’t I just give you $10 off now?”
“Goodie! Please! Please!” I said, without the exclamation marks so I wouldn’t seem too eager.
So I had $10 off without even asking, and before I knew it, the cashier slammed a big, heavy stamp on my receipt. “Huh?” I thought. It read: NO REFUNDS OR RETURNS ON CLEARANCE ITEMS.
When we got home, Himself Gorilla-glued the goose’s wings, because they fell off twice in the car. Standing back to semi-admire the goose on the back wall of the outside of our house, I have to admit it really is a piece of crap - but a semi-okay piece of crap, and a whole lot better than a piece of blue veil on the back wall of the outside of our house.
© Nicole Parton, 2021
