The message on my answering machine last Friday was this: "K, I've got bullsht for you. When you are talking to your dad tell him we won't need his bullsht we've got our own now."
Now, that message made perfect sense to me, but I can see how it might throw others off. In this case "bullsht" is exactly that, "manure from bulls." It makes perfect mulch for my garden.
Over the last week or so I've had several conversations about bullsht with DH and with my dad. Both were to see about picking some up for me.
Conversations tended to be short and go something like this:
"K, is that our dad on the phone? Ask him for the number of the bullsht guy."
"K, did DH get you any bullsht? I'm going for a half-load so we could share some bullsht."
So. I got my bullsht on Friday.
On Friday night DH and I left for a weekend away at Niagara-on-the-Lake. We spent the weekend at the beautiful Prince-of-Wales hotel. We attended the Shaw Festival to see "An Ideal Husband," went on a wine tour and tasting, shopped down town Niagara-on-the-Lake, went for several long walks, and had wonderful dinners at excellent restaurants. It was absolutely divine.
Then I got home on Sunday afternoon and spread my bullsht.
This is my life....