Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Saturday, March 12, 2005
How do you spell clomp..klomp...?
I am a clomper. When I walk, I klomp through the house. My beloved spouse has made me aware of my clomping. He walks quietly and stealthfully, practically sliding and/or shuffling through the house. Last night after a no-no dinner of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and corn (sometimes ya just gotta have it) I actually heard him klomp across the living room. As we enter our sixth year of marriage, the klompers are winning :-)
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