We swapped stories at the renovated Deering town house. Looks great! Walls painted, wood floor sanded and varnished, roof solid. Nancy, who knows the history, said that in 1843 the minutes of the town meeting reveal that the article to raise money to fix up the town house was defeated. Best put off until next year when, maybe, times would be better. As it turns out, the renovation of the town house was put off for 159 years.
Wonder what that same work would have cost in 1843?
One of my favorite parts of story swapping in a small town comes when folks start telling stories about each other. Betty told about the time J.P. made a mistake at a party. She looked over at him and he had a sour expression on his face. More than sour, he looked pained. He looked bad. She swooped in to see if he needed rescuing. “What’s the matter, J.P,?” He pointed to the bowl of potpourri. He’d mistaken the contents for beer nuts.
That’s what I call a nimrod move.
Speaking of fragrances, Peter remembered Eddie, who worked at the box shop and had a jealous wife. One day Eddie was picking on Peter something awful. So Peter, knowing Eddie’s habits, poured a bottle of his mother’s perfume into the compressed air hose.
Eddie, as was his practice at the end of a day, fired up the hose to blow the work dust off himself before heading home.
And he went home smelling like Evening in Paris.
Wonder what that same work would have cost in 1843?
One of my favorite parts of story swapping in a small town comes when folks start telling stories about each other. Betty told about the time J.P. made a mistake at a party. She looked over at him and he had a sour expression on his face. More than sour, he looked pained. He looked bad. She swooped in to see if he needed rescuing. “What’s the matter, J.P,?” He pointed to the bowl of potpourri. He’d mistaken the contents for beer nuts.
That’s what I call a nimrod move.
Speaking of fragrances, Peter remembered Eddie, who worked at the box shop and had a jealous wife. One day Eddie was picking on Peter something awful. So Peter, knowing Eddie’s habits, poured a bottle of his mother’s perfume into the compressed air hose.
Eddie, as was his practice at the end of a day, fired up the hose to blow the work dust off himself before heading home.
And he went home smelling like Evening in Paris.
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