Call 911 – I’ve Been Chiseled!
That’s today’s Daily Prompt. Before I try to elaborate on this, there are a couple of things I need to emphasize. First thing: I didn’t even know I had a personal sculptor – I thought that guy was here to remove that old carport. I wondered why he was so careful how he hammered that concrete. Second thing: if I’d known the first thing, I sure wouldn’t let him chisel me. I like honesty in the folks I deal with!
Anyway, if I knew this personal sculptor was hanging around, I’d put him to work! I mean, if he’s my own personal sculptor, then that means he works for me – for free. Right?? Oh wait … that would make ME the chiseler. Scratch that. Reverse it.
Boy, it would be a hoot ‘n holler to see a statue of me hunched over in front of that sewing machine, my trusty seam ripper clutched tightly in one hand and a disobedient seam being taught a lesson in the other hand. Of course, there would have to be a box of half-finished purses at my feet and a couple lying on the sewing table. Oh, and he could probably manage to carve out a box of jeans sitting beside my chair, legs flailing and pockets gaping. *sigh* doesn’t that mental picture bring a tear to your eye? Does mine!
Now, this prompts me to consider another point of interest – I’m supposed to tell what’s so significant about getting chiseled. Well, I’ll tell ya. It elicits a certain … oh … how shall I put this? A certain chutzpah, an element of excitement, and even a smidgen of smirk. Getting chiseled produces an AMAZINGLY accurate representation of what has consumed my days and weeks and months this last year. For me, this has been The Year of the Purse. And this guy didn’t chisel me out of that – he chiseled that out of me!