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Posts Tagged ‘deeper than the truth’

I’m one of ‘Those Parents’. You know, the ones that waste valuable tax payers’ money by signing their children up for a state government reading initiative and then losing all the paperwork so that the kids are unable to log on to the relevant government website.

Mr Justice tried to help me by claiming he remembered his password.

“It’s 14!” he exclaimed and then provided me with a long convoluted explanation for his reasoning, involving someone else in his class’s password was “12-something” and how he was “next” and how things were “going up in twos”. You know, just generally using seven year old logic to explain something he thought he might have maybe remembered.

After the kids went to bed,  I tried to see if “14” really was his password. It was a long shot, but I was willing to do anything to avoid having to present myself to a deeply forbidding-looking School Librarian as “An Irresponsible Mother” and get spanked for it – although I daresay it’s the kind of thing my bookish husband fantasises about all the time.

My husband, in the meantime, was watching some random cop show on the ABC, oblivious to the fact his wife was trying to hack into a government website. After about fifteen attempts, however, I had to give up in fear that the Feds would burst through our front door and wake up the kids. I could just see the ensuing headlines in the local tabloid: “Children Woken Up Because Irresponsible Mother Lost Password” or even “Husband Asks To ‘Just Watch’ As Feds Spank Wife”.

And so I returned to blogging and general piss-farting about on the computer, whilst keeping half an eye on the TV.

After one particular scene in the cop show where the plot took yet another turn, I felt compelled to speak out: “That’s rubbish! There’s no way Ewan was involved in the robbery. It was Eddie.”

“Who’s Ewan?” my husband asked.

“Eddie’s son.”

PAUSE.

“Who’s Eddie?”

“Uh, only the policeman who was shot and the one Caroline Quentin’s character is giving the eulogy for. And please don’t ask me which one Caroline Quentin is.”

“Oh, you’re the type to pay attention to the plot,” my husband said waving his hand dismissively. “For me, it’s all just colour and movement.”

“Yes, I pay attention to the plot while blogging, catching up on emails AND hacking into government websites,” I commented. My husband just snorted and went back to his colour and movement, interspersed with the colour and movement of the shiraz swilling in his glass.

And I thought of other times where the “colour and movement” rule might apply to my husband’s life – for example, when the children start vomiting in the night and he sleeps through the whole thing. Or whenever  he picks up his guitar and starts strumming, completely oblivious to fact the kids have taken off all their clothes and are dancing naked around him and either holding sharp scissors in their hands or trying to see how many marbles they can fit in their mouths.

ANYWAY, after the TV show finished (and I had explained the ending to my husband), we both watched an ad for that Griff Rhys Jones show where he goes places on boats along famous rivers called something like “Rhys Jones Goes Places On Boats Along Famous Rivers”.

“What’s with aging comedians and travel shows?” I remarked.

“What was that comedy show he was in? Was it ‘Alas Smith and Jones’?” my husband asked.

“No, it was ‘Alias Smith and Jones’,” I replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, let’s just say if there was someone else in this room who’d watched that last police show with us, whose word do you think they’d take?” I was feeling quite smug by this point.

Unfortunately, my husband wasn’t going to let it rest. He got me to look it up on imdb.com where I discovered it was “Alas Smith and Jones”. Although, in my defence, it was on obvious play on the name of  a much earlier American show that was called  “Alias Smith and Jones”.

“You may be right on the surface, sure,” I said to my husband. “You know, where all that colour and movement is along with trifling things like passwords and paperwork… But it’s like there’s the truth and then there’s deeper than the truth… And that’s where you’ll find me, my friend. That’s where I hang.”

You know, using thirty-nine year old logic and all… Now, quick! Some help me use that logic to explain to the School Librarian how I lost that stupid paperwork in the first place.

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