Wednesday morning, April 15th. Wake-up time: 7:17AM. Late work night. Slept in.
Sara up at the same time. Sat, drank coffee, talked. Started our day.
Sara on iPhone, reading emails, checking Facebook and editing my coronavirus quiz from the day before.
Me in the kitchen, drinking more coffee, making oatmeal and emptying the dishwasher.
“That’s not true.” Heard these words from the kitchen and thought Sara was railing against Fake News. Heard them again and walked back into living room.
Sara actually reading and editing my quiz from the day before. Discussion ensued.
Called me out for stretching the truth to make a point.
Explained that I got the basic truth right.
Called me out for being too long.
Explained that I wanted to be shorter.
Called me out for too much detail.
Explained that I liked detail.
Called me out for making the same point, over and over.
Explained that each point was actually slightly different.
Called me out for explaining the obvious.
Explained that I just wanted to make sure.
Commentary continued--and then I said it.
“I understand that.”
Told that was what I always say when I want a critical conversation to stop.
Remembered that my kids had called me out years earlier for saying, “Sorry about that.”
First observed by Annie--but then stunned when all the kids chimed in and agreed.
I’d listen to their troubles--but only to a point.
“Sorry about that” meant move on.
My approach: distract and divert.
You feel bad about something--but look at this crazy thing over there.
Reminded that Annie even made a t-shirt for me with “Sorry about that” on the back.
Could not remember what was on the front of the t-shirt.
Went out to walk the dogs. Put on mask.
(Second version of mask from Sara. Ties are actual shoelaces so easier to tie behind the back. Still surprised when glasses steamed up. Still surprised when I tried to lick fingers to open poop bag and mask blocked me. Still surprised when Face ID did not work on my iPhone because of the mask.)
Punched in my Apple ID.
Texted Annie, “Can you talk? Not urgent.”
Annie called back, “About to go into a meeting. What’s up?”
“What was on the front of that ‘Sorry about that’ t-shirt you made me?”
“These things happen.”
Remembered that as my standard response to all strange, unusual and even horrible things.
Global coronavirus pandemic. Death all around us. But what was on that t-shirt?
“Did you really call me at work to find out what was on the front of that t-shirt?”
“Sorry about that.”
What did NOT happen?
A. Sara said, “Reading this quiz can be painful;”
B. In our quiz conversation, I told Sara, “Sorry about that;”
C. A family member who did not wish to be identified agreed with previous suggestion from Sara: drop the “what did not happen?” question;
D. Talked with a co-worker about posting this quiz to Substack. Discussed different disclosures on my place of work. Co-worker reported being “somewhat agnostic” on different versions of disclosure;
E. Emailed “Understandably” newsletter author Bill Murphy Junior about Amazon.
Want the answer?
Answer #29. “These Things Happen,” April 15, 2020
If you’re a subscriber, the answer will be sent to you as a separate email when the question is published.
Want more?
Here’s the next quiz in the series: Quiz #30. “Slugger.”
Here’s the previous quiz in the series: Quiz #28. Shakespeare.
Here’s the first quiz in the series: Quiz #1. Stella and Social Distancing, March 13, 2020
The quiz is explained here: Steve’s Stay-at-Home Coronavirus Quiz.
Here is an archive of all the quizzes.
Want to let me know how I’m doing with this quiz?
Please let me know about any typos or misspellings.
Comments, corrections and confessions welcome.
Thank you and good night.
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