Silly Me!

You remember the funeral I officiated at recently? The one for the 18-year-old girl who committed suicide on Christmas Eve? Well, the funeral director for this funeral always pays by cheque. I put the cheque in my trousers. A few days later I went looking for the cheque, but couldn’t find it anywhere – even though I was sure I’d put it in my pocket. So I decided to wash my trousers for a trip to Little Smoke. As it turns out, I didn’t need the trousers there. But I did yesterday. So putting them on I felt something rustle in my back pocket. Reaching in I felt some paper, and – you guessed it – it was the cheque, in rather good condition, except the funeral director’s signature had vanished as he signs it with a fountain pen. Anyway, I call him and asked could he write me another. I went to Home City today and, among other things, called to pick up my replacement cheque – it has wrapped in clear plastic, just in case I washed it! I had a good hearty laugh.