I’ve been spending these past days discussing art history and poetry, and I am now invited to a couple of art auctions? What the deuce?
A stranger I ran into on the street sounded remarkably similar to someone else I used to know. And I mean ridiculously, remarkably similar. The same mousy demeanour, the same accent, identical vocabulary, everything. So I did something a younger me wouldn’t have even contemplated: I rudely walked up to her and asked her if she knew this other woman.
Turns out she did; they were sisters! What the deuce?
A day or so before I left Oslo, my favourite pair of shoes completely fell apart. And I mean utterly, completely fell apart. The nature of the failure was very strange, but “No worries,” I told myself, and packed a pair of sturdy boots for my trip.
I show up here, and within a couple of days of walking around town, my “sturdy” boots fall apart too. Rubber and leather and metal (how the hell have I ever gotten on a plane with these things?) everywhere.
Has my gait changed so much these past days? What the deuce?
I don’t know what’s gotten into people around, but they keep trying to set me up with this Danish girl. Granted she’s really cute and fun to hang out with, but why are these guys pushing so hard? Is there something about turning older that brings out the inner matchmakers in women? What the deuce?
You have chosen a tricky word, deuce? Depending one what you had in mind while writing and what the readers have in mind while reading, the deuce will always vary! But it will always have a number two!
I started with ‘What the fuck?’ and gradually worked my way down to this choice. This final choice was nicked from Arthur Conan Doyle, and I think it is some sort of affectation reflecting my being in the U.K. now.
First: Why do you ask me to do those additions. Yeow!
Looks like you’re either jinxed or deuced!
Good luck.
Joy always,
Susan
I only ask people to add to keep out the evil spam bots.
I don’t mean to annoy anyone, honest. :)