One boring summer day, back when I was a kid, I was out with my dad. We were on our way home from somewhere, when I remarked that our little town was so boring, nothing exciting ever happened there.
We turned up the road that went up the big hill to the lake we lived on. At the top of the hill, in the center of our little neighborhood, one of the buildings was on fire! There was much excitement, and firetrucks and everything. It might have been the neighborhood bar that was on fire, I know it was near the tiny little Post Office.
Ever since then, I have been very careful not to say that things are boring. You never know, I could start another fire. Until recently, that is.
You see, yesterday, I believe I said something about how boring life was on that particular day. And I paid the price for that little indescretion. This morning, I had to be taken for medical help. It's a darn good thing Hubs could leave work. I am fine now, after we got home, I took a good long nap. Hubs has even cooked dinner tonight. I believe I've learned my lesson, and will never again utter the phrase "this is boring, nothing ever happens..."
In closing, I would like to point out that yesterday's non-post was my own little moment of silence for all the recent victims of bombings, explosions, and shootings. Nothing I could say was more important than that.