At bedtime, I helped the kid into her pajamas, singing/hollering, "Show me the way to go home! I'm tired and I want to go to bed! I had a couple drinks about an hour ago and they went straight to my head!"
Zenny said, "Did you really have a couple of drinks?"
And I said, "No, that is part of the song. I don't remember the rest, though."
"Well you can stop singing now."
Philistine.
We got into bed, I pulled out the stack of library books, and the first one was Zeke Pippin, by William Steig. I hadn't read this one before, but I liked Doctor De Soto, so it had seemed like a safe bet. Zeke is a pig who finds a magic harmonica, and runs away from home after his family falls asleep during his performance of La Traviata. While rafting down the river, he realizes the harmonica is enchanted and suddenly panics because he thinks his mother will be so upset he's run away that she'll shoot herself. In his desperation to get home, he gets mugged by a pack of dogs and then attacked by a wolf. Just as the wolf is about to eat him, he plays the only song he can think of - and that song? SHOW ME THE WAY TO GO HOME.
So that was weird.
The end.
This is how the year is going to be, sorry, folks. I was going to design qualitative, art-based content on a moderated schedule, and I have just been swigging Dayquil with office coffee and typing stream-of-consciousness, instead.
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