Once my sister Laura decided that Thursdays are a sad day. I really can’t remember when she started doing this, but she did, in a very funny voice. And the story goes like this:
Fursday is a sad day! Fursday is the day the giraffe falls off the mountain and dies on Fursday!
This is possibly the weirdest thing my sister has ever done, except for the way she used to laugh at her own jokes until she fell off her chair, and believe me when I say that her jokes were not funny. Also she used to wear socks to the pool because she didn’t like her toes. Or the boys made fun of her toes. Or something like that.
Anyway, since the first day when Laura declared Fursday to be a sad day, a whole family mythology has built up around Thursdays and the giraffes and the mountain and everything. The most notable exception to the giraffes dying on Thursdays rule is Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving the giraffes fall off the mountain and land on the turkeys, which die. So the giraffes are miraculously saved and we get turkey for dinner.
I have no idea why I’m sharing this except that today I took this picture of myself and it looks like the face Laura makes when she’s telling the giraffe story.
Maybe if we all ask very very nicely, she will make a video of herself telling about the giraffes. If she does, I promise to post it.
Please, Laura? Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top?? And CHEESECAKE? (Cheesecake is Laura’s love language).