Or the key to a happy family life, depending on how you look at it.
Just now Dad asked me to close the vents downstairs so we can try our brand new central air conditioning. I was sure I heard him say, "Use your tongue!" But what he'd actually said was, "Use your thumbs", but he pronounces "thumbs" like "tum", hence the confusion. Those of you who are wondering what the hell thumbs have to do with closing vents, are just beginning to appreciate the layers of confusion that exist in our home. See, it's like The Davinci Code, first you have figure what language it is, then you have to unscramble it, then you have to decide what was really being said.
My life is a second rate imitation of a Dan Brown novel combined with a perpetual Laurel and Hardy episode. Maybe a little Backdraft too, for the fire parts.
Suffice it to say, my Dad could reduce Dr. Robert Langdon to tears with a single sentence. You remember the party game where one person whispers something into someones ear and it goes around until "James likes to eat ice cream in bed" becomes "Kill the Pope, spend the money and Fred lost his underwear"? High comedy. My father can do that magically, without the big chain of inebriated teenagers adding extra flavour to the message.
One time he asked me, "Jewansome nood-lee schnitzel-puss?". I don't know what's scarier, that he called me "Schnitzel-puss" or that I understood EXACTLY what he'd meant.
Just now he asked me to check if the compressor was working. Our new air conditioner is so far not working. YAY. And Dad just spent ten minutes trying to explain to me where the new air conditioning cutoff switch is. I'm going downstairs...
Grand. The air is definitely not working. It's now 26 degrees in here and climbing. Dad's going to call the furnace guy.
I'm sure he'll tell them, "Gift barn art marks not jerking hot!"
Somehow, they'll figure it out.
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