Oh look! Once again, it's the most depressing day of the year!
I am playing along. Today is pretty depressing, all right. I woke up with that dreadful Monday feeling and the day has not become much better since then. Oh fine, it's not THAT bad. It just seems that every annoying task at work needs to be done today, and none of the fun stuff. Also I have "Caledonia" stuck in my head. Bah.
The reason for this is the fact that I nicked a bunch of tapes for Mabel from the antique shop down the road (they have a Free Stuff table!). One of them I grabbed only because it had a cover of "Caledonia", which is a good maudlin song for wishing I wasn't in Edmonton. The cover was actually half-decent, but as it turns out the tape also includes the song that wins my vote for "Worst Lyrics Ever". This song did not even bother to rhyme for the most part, but when it did, it stooped to rhyming "dawdle" and "toddle".
I believe it was along the lines of, "Please come home soon and don't dawdle, I've been missing you ever since I could toddle", which, as you will note, has the added benefit of making next to no sense. Kept me amused on the drive to Rocky, anyway.
Rocky was fun. I staged a House marathon since Grace was kind enough to nick the DVDs off her friend. Saw Tim, who has grown an even more redneck facial-hair arrangement. And of course attended Myrtle's funeral, which was very good in general. Except for the fact that the former rector GOT HER NAME WRONG FOUR TIMES AT HER OWN FUNERAL! The last time he said something about how "Mabel" had a long and wonderful life her daughter JennyBelle finally yelled out, "Myrtle! Her name is Myrtle!"
As dad says, it was a Fawlty Towers moment. Funny only because it's so excruciating. Neither dad nor I deal well with Fawlty Towers for that very reason - we both hate to watch people embarrass themselves. I must admit it livened up the funeral somewhat, though.
Also, I was very happy to note that the funeral included BOTH a song from the Kitchenaires (yay!) and a rendition of "How Great Thou Art" by Helen Brockman on her saw. This last gave me pause for thought. It always seemed perfectly normal to me as a child that church services might include an old lady playing hymns on a saw using a violin bow. Never struck me as at all strange. It was only later that I learned that playing the saw is somewhat of a rare talent. No idea where she learned it. Was nice to see her, anyway.