The Somedays Promise

Beaumont: Good morning Louise. Time to rise and shine and get typing.

Me: I just want to lie in bed another fifteen minutes Beau. I’m tired.

Beau: And who’s to blame for that?

Me: Why would you want to lay blame for me trying to relax this morning, Beau?

Beau: Well, it’s Sunday morning and you’re lying in bed, scrolling through whatever you’re scrolling through and not working on my blog. That means you’re to blame for keeping my fans from connecting with me.

Me: I’m going to get to your blog today, Beau. I promise.

Beau: And I’m going to keep you to that promise.

Me: Beau, can’t you just trust me to keep it myself?

Beau: Umm…. as my fans will attest, Louise. You’re not all that good at keeping your someday promises.

Me: Sunday Beau. It’s Sunday.

Beau: Louise. The way I see it, given your lack of turning up here as you’re supposed to every, and I repeat, EVERY Sunday, I think calling it a Somedays promise is much more appropriate.

Me: All right. I bite. Hit me with ie. Why?

Beau: Oh my. After all these years you still open the door to my following through on your invitation to bite and hit you!

Me: (smiling oh so innocently – she thinks) Maybe someday I’ll learn.

Beau: Forgetful you are, Louise. Cute you’re not. Which is why I’m sticking to calling it your Somedays Promise. Someday I’ll learn. Someday I’ll stop thinking only about myself and somedays I turn up here to post your blog. Only when I feel like it, not LIKE I PROMISED.

Me: I can hear you Beau. You don’t have to yell.

Beau: I’m not yelling, Louise. I’m being assertive. And, because I worry about your aging status and all that can entail, like loss of hearing and memory, I’m talking louder than normal and, I’ve decided…

Me: What’s that Beau? What have you decided? To take a typing course so you can type your own post? (laughing sweetly – she thinks)

Beau: Haha! Whether I know how to type or not is irrelevant which we know I can it’s just nobody’s invented a keyboard to fit my paws! Anyway, you’re the one who made the promise and then turned it into ‘somedays I follow through’ blogging. However, because I do care about you and your age so much, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, You’re not being lazy or inconsiderate and breaking your Sunday, which you treat as your Somedays, promise. You’re just being forgetful because you’re old.

Me: Oh my. How gracious of you Beau. But… can you do me a favour please?

Beau: Why should I do you a favour Louise? You’re the one breaking her promise.

Me: I’m also the one with my fingers on the keyboard…

Beau: Oh. Well. When you put it that way… What is it you’d like of divine typist?

Me: Don’t be cute Beau.

Beau: Is that the promise? For me to stop being cute. Well that’s impossible. I just am.

Me: (sighing) So you think. Anyway. No. That’s not the favour. The favour is, please stop talking about me as ‘old’. That’s ageist and anyway, I’m not old. I’m this fabulous age I am right now.

Beau: If you promise to turn somedays into Sunday every week, it’s a deal.

Me: Oh. Every?

Beau: Hey, you want me to stop calling you old. You gotta prove you’ve got the commitment, not to mention the energy and creative power, to turn up here, every Sunday, like you promised.

Me: How about we call it a draw and both agree to ‘Do Our Best’?

Beau: Hmm… that’s a fair deal.

Me: Ok. Good. That’s a deal.

Beau: Deal. But can I just say…

Me: What’s that Beau?

Beau: Pretty good negotiating for an old gal.


Beau: Hey! Trust me. I’m doing my best. Some habits take longer to change.

Sigh. When will I ever learn?

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