I sit most of my day, these days, in a cafe called Saxy’s. I intend to write off all soy chai lattes I consume at this establishment as necessary writer expenses on my tax returns. Why? Because it is basically paying for an Internet connection. Not having one at home, I have to pay for one elsewhere. And the Internet at Saxy’s is free, but – and here’s where the logic happens – only to paying customers.
Thusly, my coffee drink is the equivalent of buying my Internet.
Anyway. So I’m at Saxy’s, and the chick next to me is startled by a friend of hers, and says, “Oh, I didn’t see you! I lost my shoe!”
I don’t know about you, but the phrase ‘I lost my shoe’ is one of those phrases whose veracity must immediately be verified. I looked down right away, lest I miss this moment. Did she lose her shoe? What kind of shoe was it? How do you lose, say, a hiking boot? How startling is this friend, anyway?
The answers, in order, are:
Generally, to a crocodile.
Not so startling, though with lovely eyeglasses.
What makes us have to verify that stuff? If someone next to me said, “I got a phone call,” I feel I would also have to glance at his cell phone to see if that, too, was true. If someone said, “This crocodile is eating my hiking boot!” I would probably have to check that out, too. But why?