What A Morning It Has Been

At 12:30 a.m. we were awaken by near a bomb going off in our home, the downstairs fan blew a spoke. Noisemaker fixed what he could fix in the darkness and a first light, he went to investigate further.

While he was fixing, I was out on the porch in -30 weather, (many curse words) that is cold, cold, weather - having a cigarette. I got this song in my head, an irish jig.

Donald, where's your trousers...
let the wind blow high
let the wind blow low
lalalalala

I danced! I laughed, I thought of Lydia - she would love Donald without his trousers!

After settlement of the fan explosion, I figured I may as well bake up some Nuts and Bolts. In cutting up the butter - I was thinking and wiggling to ...Donald, where's your trousers - not paying attention to where the knife was situated - I slit a good portion of my index finger on the right hand off. Oh my, did it bleed. It was bleedsmucksville. If I lived near a clinic - yep - I would have a stitch or two, 3, 4...5?

Do you know how hard it is to type, with an invalid, right index finger.

Do you know - do men wear underwear under those kilts?

Donald, where's your trousers...
let the wind blow high
let the wind blow low

Kick up the kilt in the summer - Donald.
Lydia will be waiting.

Donald Where's Your Trousers - Andy Stewart
Reference to Donald and Lydia - John Prine