The Old Bin

PhotoPrompt  July 2012

The storage bin had been a part of the farm house as long as anyone could remember.  Even back many generations, that bin was there, leaning up against the barn. 

It used to store chicken feed.  Farmer Gunter got rid of the chickens after a few decades. 

Then the bin was used to keep coal before the farmer switched to propane.  He cleaned the bin out and thought about how it could be used.  He even asked his wife Bernadette what they should do with the empty bin.

Bernie launched into another harangue about him being too lazy to even think for himself, and then moved on to his other deficiencies.  The list was long.  Gunter stared at her blankly as she continued.

After some time, Gunter packed up his suitcase and gathered up all their money stored in the cellar since the Great Depression.  As he passed by the bin, he patted the lid which sported shiny new nails all around the perimeter. 

“You’re right, Bernie.  I shoulda thought of this long ago.”  Silence was his answer.


The was a photo prompt from July 2012. Delores at Mumblings provided the photo and participants were invited to latch a story onto the photo.  This was my take. 

Also, we will be on a trip from Mon-Thurs. (9/24-27) Won't be commenting but will see you when we return. Also, my daughter and our gr-son Benjamin will be visiting from 9/27-10/8.  So maybe I'll check in then, too.

The Remote Conflict

One experiences many conflicts during a marriage.  With some luck and hard work, the couple can resolve these conflicts.

My husband John and I have seen our share of conflicts.  Oh, yes we have.  Usually we have been able to work through the difficulties.

Recently, extreme measures were required to settle a life-long problem.  Now, don’t laugh, because this particular problem has had far reaching effects in the peace of our house.

Source: Are there enough?

Where is the remote?

Which always escalates to

I don’t know!  You had it last!

After that, everything goes all messy.  

The couch cushions go flying, unread mail and magazines are moved from place to place, and emotions run high.  Eventually, the dang remote(s) are found, life goes back to normal until the next time one or more remotes go missing.

Few things are as important as the danged remotes.  Remember the day when we had to actually get up off our rears to change the channel??

This has really worked! 

I have solved that problem.  I may patent my ideas.