Daily Flash Fiction 1/1/20 W/C 262 |
Blank Slate We had one last project for 2020. A new sidewalk in front of the house went in on New Year’s Eve. The old one was cracked, pitted and pushed up by tree roots. It had been on the to-do list for months. So what better time than the end of a miserable year to replace it. “Let’s start the new year off with a blank slate, so to speak.” My husband gave me this argument about a month ago. Always the penny pincher, I wasn’t so sure. “Good grief, George. This will cost a fortune, a few thousand at least. Where’s that money coming from? You have a rich uncle die or something?” “Yes, as a matter of fact we do. Uncle Sam is dying and giving everyone a few thousand of his money to spend before he goes belly up. So let’s do this.” So it’s a done deal. The concrete is immaculate. I put up a little fence to keep out people and dogs. We went to bed. This morning I went out to check. “What the …?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. “George! Get out here!” He came running, sure I had fallen. “Look at this. All this work. Ruined!” He started to laugh when he saw the sidewalk. I don’t know what is so funny. Nothing about this makes me laugh. “Don’t be such a gloomy puss. That is funny!” George walked back into the house. I still don’t find it funny to see all that glitter imbedded in the cement. And that little note, “Remember Glitter 2020”. W/C 262
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