Dear Invitee,
I know how it feels to just meet— or long suffer— a dwarfish fellow of advanced years and then to receive an invitation to pay cash money for a couple of hours “honoring” said bore. The guarantee of hypocrisy being only slightly ameliorated with the chance of an open bar.
I’ve also felt a similar tightening of the bowel, when I heard people I sorta liked, discussing a party to which I hadn’t been invited. It mattered not at all that I didn’t want to go to said party.
Basho said it well.
Hearing the cuckoo
I long for Kyoto
Even in Kyoto
I can also imagine the swarm of stinging apologies.
“I would CERTAINLY be there if it weren’t for my”:
Choose 1.
- Prestigious job
- Shrewish wife
- Overbearing husband
- Enflamed calendar
- Enflamed prostate
If you like to come, do so.
If not, not.
bhc
