It is one of those mornings.
The TV in the bedroom isn’t working and I make a comment and suddenly I am accused of blaming someone for a bad connection.
I did mention that the receiver keeps getting moved (and not by me) and I guess this is how I am fixing blame.
It’s quiet in this house, save for the sound of the toaster oven and my everything bagel warming up, I don’t hear much of anything else. I don’t expect this is going to be a morning rampant with conversation.
I’ve probably done something that has put me on the naughty list.
Maybe I didn’t hang up my soap bar in the shower on the proper hook, or perhaps I didn’t throw the dry cleaner tags away quick enough or I’ve left my ear plugs in a too visible place where others might see…
(Oh, no, maybe I dropped some bagel crumbs on the floor as I put it in the toaster…)
I don’t know.
I’m at a loss as to my transgression and the thought of asking might expose me to the fires of Malibu or worse yet, the wrath of Minga.
(Whispers all around: Minga, Minga, Minga)
Instead, I will just be silent and hope that whatever I’ve done will blow over and things will go back to the normalcy where my failures are a given and better still, accepted.
I should not have said anything about the TV. That was my mistake. I should have waited to the weekend, fixed the connection and kept my thoughts to myself.
I didn’t need Good Morning America, I needed Peace at Chez Hernandi.
That was my mistake.
Just like I’m sharing now.
I’m wondering who I will offend next? Or is whom? I can’t win today.
Now I’m sure to offend the Grammar Gods.