Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me yet again, asking why I didn’t do something useful with my time.
“Like sitting around the pool and drinking wine is not a good thing?” I asked.
Talking about my “doing-something-useful” seems to be her favourite topic of conversation.
She was “only thinking of me”, she said and suggested that I go down to the Senior Centre and hang out with the guys.
I did this and when I got home last night, I decided to play a prank on her.
I emailed her and told her that I had joined a Parachute Club.
She replied, “Are you nuts? You are 78 years old and now you’re going to start jumping out of planes?”
I told her that I even got a Membership Card and emailed a copy to her.
She immediately telephoned me and yelled, “Good grief, Mum, where are your glasses?!
This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club”.
“Oh man, I’m in trouble again,” I said, “I really don’t know what to do. I signed up for five jumps a week!”.
The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that my daughter had fainted.