Tag: 3TC

Strange Night (3TC)

April 16, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/14/three-things-challenge-m664/

Di’s words are: UNCANNY, STRANGE, EERIE

🌙🌓🌖🌘🌒🌕🌙

It was going to be one of those strange nights when Darcy wouldn’t sleep well.

It was uncanny how, when menopause began, she’d get odd feelings early in the day (beyond the hotflashes, crying jags–and irritability, which was generally related to her husband, Chuck…a perpetual annoyance).

She’d drop a sticky spoon, or put the bag of dry oats in the fridge; or imagine she saw mouse droppings that were just spilled raisins.  And she’d suddenly fear she might be losing her mind–it wasn’t a worry she’d experienced before this mid-life madness.

She went about her routine this day, just feeling weird, and not exactly looking forward to bedtime…nightmares were another new thing that surfaced.

After dinner, which Chuck had implied was not her best culinary effort, she tidied the kitchen, grabbed a new mystery and went to the bedroom to read in peace.  The book was a fascinating page-turner, but when she felt sleepy she set it aside and burrowed beneath the blankets.

Sometime in the dark wee hours, she was startled awake–she’d heard something…something eerie she couldn’t discern, and didn’t want to investigate.  What if it was a poltergeist, she asked herself–then giggled, and replied to herself, ‘don’t be an idiot’. 

Talking to herself was yet another thing she hadn’t expected with the onset of  “change of  life” (what a stupid term, she thought–didn’t life change frequently? with no advance notice?).

She punched the pillow back into a comfortable mold, and resettled herself to sleep.  Soon she was awake again: eerie “scratching” sounds, and perhaps cupboard hinges squeaking.

Chuck wasn’t in bed, and she tried to recall if this week he worked night-shift.  Her memory was on the blink… But if she wasn’t going to be able to sleep, she may as well get up and confront whatever was disturbing her rest.

She put her robe on, reached for the large flashlight by the bed, and tip-toed downstairs.

The glare of light landed on Chuck’s face.  “What in the name of Horatio are you doing?” she practically shouted.

He frowned slightly, “I was looking for those little peanut butter with cheese crackers you said you bought for me–can’t find then anywhere.”

“They’re with the raisins…the ones you were eating 2 nights ago, and didn’t clean up.”

“Oh, that’s right.”  He grinned.  “Ya know?…I think your hormones are giving me cravings.”

©V.Sparrow, 2024 

Escape to the Farm (3TC)

April 15, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/12/three-things-challenge-m662/

Di’s 3 words are:  ALLOW, PERMIT, PERMISSION

🚜🚗🚜

Charlie, at 16, was devastated to learn he wouldn’t be allowed a student driver’s permit.

Like most teenagers his one aspiration in life was to be able to drive, even if only in his parents’ older car.  But there were rules, and they were set in place for a reason–a good reason, in his parents’ minds.

The first was that his grades had to improve–they’d not done so to an acceptable level.

The second was that he needed to show initiative and responsibility–not wait for his mom and dad to tell him several times to do minimal chores…then sigh as though burdened by life when he finally got up from bed, or his beanbag chair, to appease them.

So things were getting pretty tense and testy around their house, and Charlie wasn’t making fast progress toward the goal of becoming “another crazy driver who’ll endanger the rest of the world”. 

Which was NOT his goal–but rather, his folks’ paranoid and insulting visual.

He had every intention of being an excellent, careful driver, he’d assured them in his most serious voice.  To which his father had “harrumphed”, and his mom reached for the aspirin bottle.

But a miracle was on the way.  Grandpa called, wanting to know if Charlie felt like working for him a bit on the farm–salary yet to be determined.  Oh yes! this was his winning lottery ticket–Charlie packed a bag before his dad hung up the phone.

His grandfather arrived, visited a few minutes–then read Charlie’s eagerness to hit the road, in his bright eyes and wiggling foot.

When they got to the farm, Charlie saw the big tractor he’d admired since he could toddle over to it and shout, “cracter, cracter!”

He and Grandpa lunched on sandwiches Charlie’s mom had sent, and began talking business: the scope of Charlie’s farm duties, and an agreeable wage.

“Grandpa”, he interrupted, “I’d be happy with half the amount you want to pay me–I love being with you here on the farm…but I was kinda hoping maybe you’d let me drive the tractor”.

Wondering when this wish might surface, Grandpa smiled with delight.  He remembered being Charlie’s age…(the tractor was the love of his life, until he met Loralee, that is).  He made Charlie wait a long moment, pretending to ponder the idea.  Charlie remained silent, wiggling his foot.

“Permission granted,” Grandpa said, and then, “but this has to stay a private matter between us guys.  If your mom finds out, she’ll kill me–and I’m not ready for you to inherit all my worldly goods, and this farm.”

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Boris the Boor (3TC)

April 12, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/10/three-things-challenge-m660/

Di’s words are: Unit, Utensil, Utter

🎪🤡🎪

Boris was a guest at every dinner party, yet no one seems to know, or admit, how he got invited.  He was a big oaf, as my mother would have said, rest her soul. 

And, look up “boor” in the dictionary–there he is in tuxedo-black, with white socks.

His use of utensils, silverware, was appalling–his entire persona was ill-mannered.  “Odd” doesn’t begin to cover his behaviors, and it was hard to vote which was more rude than another.

We’d had to invite him last year, and just like always he’d utter lyrics to some song in foreign language…interrupting all conversation at the table.

When I learned he lived in the corner condo unit 2 blocks from our house, I was keen to move.

So here we are, our turn to host the dinner again–and in a fit of understandable pique I told my husband, “you either find a substitute hostess, or you’ll do the honors at this circus alone.”

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Where Would They Be Without Us? (3TC)

April 10, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/09/three-things-challenge-m659/

Di’s words are:  ANXIOUS, UPSET, UNHAPPY

⛳

Darcy’s husband, Chuck, was often upset or unhappy–it didn’t usually last long, thank goodness.

But today he was also anxious:  “Where did you put my golf balls?”

“I can’t hear you when you’re yelling, honey.”

“I said, ‘where did you put my golf balls’?!”

“Chuck, I didn’t put your golf balls anywhere–I don’t touch your things unless they have to go in the washer.  Did you check your car?”

“I have to meet Buzz at the club in 20 minutes, and I can’t find them–they’re not in the car.”

She stood with her hands on hips, staring at his red face as he had this meltdown, and considered what would be more effective–ignoring him, or humor.

“Chuck, honey…maybe they’re in your underwear drawer.”

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Mr Snide’s Hallmark Movie Moment (3TC)

April 9, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/08/three-things-challenge-m658/

Di’s 3 words:  GRIP, GRIPE, SNIDE

🙃🙃🙃

Willis Snide was not a happy man.  He always had a gripe about something, which caused people to avoid him.  Like most difficult people he seemed clueless as to why others weren’t friendly.

The first thing an employee learned–from the gossips gathered at the water cooler–was to never shake Mr Snide’s hand.  One would think it a fitting gesture, a show of respect and cordiality…but more than once someone had been chastized:  Mr Snide felt their grip was too firm.

 Snide’s assistant, Carl, could not avoid him.  The younger man spent his 8-hr days chewing antacid tablets (& his fingernails and cuticles), and staying busy while tip-toeing around Mr Snide’s moods.

Carl’s wife begged him to quit, find another job…it broke her heart to see him come home everyday with a migraine and upset stomach.  He was getting thinner, more fatigued each month, and had lost joy in life…he wasn’t the fellow who’d made her swoon, and she feared she’d soon be a widow, thanks to Mr Snide.

Carl’s asset and problem was that he was loyal in the extreme.  He felt sorry for Mr Snide, and did his utmost to be a valued employee.

His annual review was due, which made Carl doubly anxious about meeting with his boss.  Though he’d earned it, he didn’t expect a raise–nor word of praise.  He was trying to just hang-in-there till his vacation…maybe then he’d take his wife’s advice, seek a position elsewhere.

“Clark!” Mr Snide’s voice rang out (he eschewed the intercom).

Carl knew Mr Snide was summoning him–three years he’d worked for the man, and his boss still didn’t address him by his correct name.  He jumped up from his desk, quick-stepped into Snide’s office.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Where are those reports I asked for?” Snide bellowed.

“Right there by your coffee mug, Sir–I finished them last night before I went home.”

“Oh…must be going blind.”

“Sir?  I was wondering when you’d be doing my review.”

“I’ll review the reports later, Clark.”

“No, I meant my annual review.”

“Oh that…well, I have a minute, take a seat.”

Mr Snide folded his hands in front of him on his desk, studied them silently for long moments.  Carl waited, trying to breathe evenly.

“Do you still want to work here, Clark?”

“I don’t understand, Sir…” Carl replied softly.

“Do you want to continue working for me?”

Carl had no idea what the right response should be, and felt his heart rate kick up so suddenly he thought he’d pass out.

“Are you dissatisfied with my performance, Sir?” he managed.

Snide shrugged, “I have no complaints.”

This caused Carl to erupt in an ironic laugh before he could restrain it.  “I’m sorry, Sir–I wasn’t laughing at you, of course.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.”  Mr Snide sighed heavily.  “Clark, I’ve been asked to resign–apparently someone, maybe more than one, has filed grievances against me.”

“Oh gosh, Mr Snide–I wasn’t aware–it wasn’t me, Sir, I assure you.”

Snide waved his hand in the air as though shooing gnats.  “No, Clark–I wasn’t concerned that it was you.” He got up and closed his office door, returned to his desk sighing heavily again, folded his hands once more.

Carl waited, wondering where any of this was going…it wasn’t like a typical review.

“Clark…I shouldn’t burden you…I’m embarrassed to say I don’t have anyone to talk to, confide in…”

“It’s fine, Mr Snide–I’m here, you can talk to me.  I won’t reveal anything you say.”

Snide covered his eyes with one hand briefly, as though to collect himself.  “I lost my wife a year ago–she was all I had in the world, meant everything to me.  I wasn’t the best husband–don’t misunderstand, I wasn’t unfaithful…but I guess you know I’m not the nicest guy. 

I wish I could have changed, for her–but when she passed away I had no incentive.  I always thought when I retired we’d start a new life somewhere, and I’d magically turn into somebody else, a man she deserved.”

The man was weeping openly, silently–and Carl’s eyes were brimming.

“She used to tell me how proud she was of me,” Mr Snide went on.  “Can you imagine that?  Proud of me.  She always insisted she loved me…I sure don’t know why.  But that’s life, isn’t it–one big damn mystery.”

“Sir, if there’s something I can do to help, just tell me,” Carl said.

“I guess…” Snide began, then stopped.  “I guess if you still wanted to work for me, I’d try to convince HQ that whatever grievances they’d received about me…I’d make amends, and hope they’d keep me on. 

And, if they accepted my apology–and if you wanted to stay–I’d do my best to start fresh with you.  I’m sorry I’ve been hell to work for, Carl–I took everything out on you because you were convenient…it was wrong…do you think you could forgive me?”

Carl stretched his hand forward, not thinking of Mr Snide’s dislike of firm-grip handshakes–but his boss stood, and grabbed him in a manly hug.

“I’d be happy to stay on with you, Mr Snide–what’s life worth if we don’t have grace for one another?”

©V.Sparrow, 2024

No-Win Situation (3TC)

April 8, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/07/three-things-challenge-m657/

Di’s 3 words:  FUR, SWEETEN, SNUGGLE

🍑🍑🍑

Darcy came home from the grocery store with peaches for her husband, Chuck…she wanted to sweeten him up for a ‘snuggle’.

He was frowning at the football game on TV, not a good sign.

She kissed the top of his graying head and gently placed the bag in his lap.

“What’s this?” he grumped, opening it.

“Peaches, your favorite, first of the season–don’t they smell wonderful?”

He pulled one out, scowled at it… “they have fur”.

“No,” she laughed lightly, “fuzz”.

“Whatever, they’re not my fave–I don’t like fuzz, I like the smooth ones.”

“You mean nectarines–they both taste the same, honey.”

He put it back in the bag and handed it to her, his eyes on a magnificent play that scored for his team.

“Would you like me to peel one for you…no fuzz or fur to bother you?”

“Darcy, I’m tryin’ ta watch the game here.  You like ’em, you can have ’em…be my guest.”

Patience and passion fading, she asked, “how many years have we been married?”

“WHAT??”

“That’s what I thought…just checking.” 

And she squeezed a peach with all her might, over his head so that the juice streamed down his face.  “Now, doesn’t that taste just like a nectarine?”

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Devil’s Pardon (3TC)

April 6, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/05/three-things-challenge-m655/

Di’s 3 words:  PARDON, EXCUSE, RELIEVE

👨‍⚖️

Other than, “young and stupid”, she had no good excuse for her indiscretion.  She’d done the crime and expected to pay a fine, maybe do some time.

Thus, she was wide-eyed with gratitude, relieved that the judge would pardon her…

Until she read the note he passed her:  “favor is granted in exchange for future favors from you.”

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Friday Quip (3TC)

April 5, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/04/three-things-challenge-m654/

Di’s 3 words are:  COLLECT, DISCARD, CHUCK

🎠🎁🎎🎨👜👒🩰💍⛸🏈👓🖼

It was time for the spring yard sale, a big event where you could spend little money for someone else’s never-used (and expensive) Christmas–and other assorted–gifts.

Marion and her sister Beth were the first to arrive down the block at Darcy’s house.  They’d brought baked goods for early-birds. 

“Mmm”, Darcy said, reaching into the Tupperware container–“date bars, my fave–thanks Marion”.

The weekend before, the sisters had helped Darcy sort through and decide what would go in the “discard” box–and she permitted them to collect items they fancied and set them aside, out of view.

Darcy’s husband, Chuck, came outside to frown at the merchandise, and scowl at prices his wife had tagged on certain things. 

“You’ve been doing these sales for five years and you still have no sense about how to get people to pay more than what something’s worth,” he groused.

“Oh, I think you may be wrong about that, honey.  When I appraised you I paid top dollar, betting that in time I’d break even.”  She winked, and kissed his cheek.

Not entirely certain whether he’d been slighted or not, he muttered, “well, I’d like to think you did better than that,” and patted her behind before returning to the house.

©V.Sparrow, 2024

Where’s Uncle Ray? (3TC)

April 4, 2024

https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2024/04/03/three-things-challenge-m653/

Di’s words are:  RUBBISH, TRASH, REFUSE

❓❓❓

Uncle Ray talked rubbish so much of the time that family and friends refused to take him seriously.  He said he was planning to take a trip, and they replied, “great–good for you!” (secretly thinking, “can we help you pack?”).  It would be good to have a break from him–he was a bore at every gathering.

Nobody paid much notice when a few days and then a week went by without him stopping by for a chat, or at least phoning to blather on.  They joked, speculated: maybe he was at the track betting on the right horses, getting rich; maybe he’d finally met a woman who was actually fascinated by him; or maybe he’d found gainful employment (hopefully out of town).

When two weeks passed, there was a knock at his eldest niece’s door–it was the guy who collected the trash on their route.

“Hey, haven’t seen Ray for awhile…your uncle, is he sick or somethin’?”

Celia shrugged, “not that we’ve heard, I don’t think so”.

The man shook his head, “just seems strange–it’s not like him to disappear, not tell his friends.”

Celia shrugged again.

The man continued to stand there, puzzled look on his downcast face.  “You know, he told me he might take a trip–and then when I collected this week’s garbage, there were odd things in one of the bags…papers, you know?  Important things you’d need if you were traveling these days–ID and stuff.  And there was an envelope addressed to me…I was afraid to open it, but it was a letter, real sad.”

“What are you talking about?” Celia asked with barely controlled irritation.

“I don’t know for sure…sounded like he was dying, said he didn’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore.”

“Oh, sheesh!” Celia said, “it’s just more Ray being Ray, telling tales…rubbish.”

“Okay, if you say so–I’d just like to know, him being a good friend a long while.”  He said goodbye, walked away.

Celia called her sister, told her the trash man’s story.  Viola wasn’t buying it, said it would be just like Ray to pull some moron in on a joke.

But Celia wasn’t convinced, thought they should file a missing person report–the trash collector’s details bothered her.

The police told her to call hospitals and morgue–she started feeling sick.  Sure enough, one hospital informed her they’d had a transient come in–no ID or insurance card, and he hadn’t appeared critically ill, kind of down in the dumps, lonely, so they released him.

The morgue had a different situation–two unidentified males had arrived…did she want to come see if one was her uncle?  Celia took a deep breath, agreed to come as soon as she called her sister.

One was a drowning victim with a bullet in his neck. The other was beaten to a pulp and had knife wounds.  They weren’t recognizable to the sisters–the mystery brought eery, troubling thoughts.

Celia contacted the waste management company, wanting to speak with the man who’d claimed to be Ray’s friend. 

“No, I don’t have a complaint about service–it’s about my missing uncle who was…is…a friend of the guy who collects our trash.” 

The man was no longer employed there.

“Oh…could you tell me why he left, where he might have gone?”

“Lady, people come and go–we don’t keep up.”

“But this is very important”, Celia implored, “the man had a letter from my uncle in his possession…my uncle’s missing and now his friend, your worker, is gone.  Something’s not right.”

No helpful response was forthcoming.

Celia was guilt-ridden about all the mean-spirited things she’d said about her uncle, and consumed by his curious absence. 

Viola tried to console her, but didn’t share Celia’s feelings and concern…she figured Ray would show up soon with more fabrications.

After a sleepless night, Celia made posters and circulated them through town:  “Where’s Uncle Ray?” (with a phone number to call).

©V.Sparrow, 2024