The nearest book for me was An Object of Beauty, by Steve Martin.
“Still, seven thousand dollars was not bad for a walk around the corner.”
This is why I have missed the Bloggess on WordPress. How else would I understand my love live? (But not really, because as parents of a young child, neither my boyfriend nor I get laid often enough to have a relationship based solely on commerce and sex.)
So, this is going around Facebook:
I decided to try it, and the book next to me was the German translation of my book. The sentence is:
“Der Familienlegende zufolge schlug der Mann meiner Ur-Ur-Grobtante, als die schon Über dreißig war und eines Tages am Frühstückstisch saß, seiner Frau von hinten einen Nagel in den Schädel und begrub sie anschließend im Garten.”
This, of course, translates to:
“According to family legend, when my great-great-great aunt was in her thirties, she sat down at the breakfast table and her husband drove a nail though the back of her skull and then buried her in the backyard.”
And that’s why I’ve hidden all the hammers on the roof, Victor. I’m saving you from yourself. And I’m also saving me from yourself. We’re both benefitting. Stop asking about the hammers. The hammers are gone.
And in other news, it’s Sunday, which…
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