Scene from my childhood:
“Hon, do you know where the _______ is?”
To avoid any gender wars that may affect tenuous holiday-inspired truces or upcoming new year’s resolutions, I will not reveal the gender of the inquirer nor the one inquired of, should this query speak to your household truth.
Scene from my now:
“Does anyone know where I put the new strand of holiday lights?”
To keep my good word, to be true to representing my subjective version reality (tear it up, tear up that phrase, theorists and critics, post-modernists and Johnny Burnette fans), that is me speaking. Where the f/ck did I put the new strand of holiday lights?
Psychics, seers, and intuitive mothers, gimme a call. Where are those lights?