Hey darling, it's only a week till we go away. Can you print our travel documents out for the holiday?
The Good Lady bustled about with some kind of laundry in her hand. It was a supernatural skill she had. Even if she were on a desert island with no clothes and no laundry facilities it would almost be guaranteed that she would be found with a pile of washing in her hands going from A to B.
Can I what?
I replied grumpily. I was working from home and hated being disturbed when I was practising guitar.
That's right sister, you read that sentence correctly
The holiday stuff, you know... Flight tickets, hotel confirmation, all that stuff. Can you print it out?
She huffed at the indignity of having to explain herself.
Fraid not, baby-chick. We don't have any printer ink. No one prints anything anymore. It's all phones now.
I placed my guitar down gently and leaned over to wiggle the mouse on my work laptop to prevent my screen from locking.
What do you mean we don't have ink for the printer?! What if we need to print something like we do now?
The Good Lady dumped her laundry and flopped down on the seat across from me as if it were a twenty-five-year-old Boomy and she had had one sniff of shandy too many.
People don't print stuff no more babycakes. Printers are like so 1990.
I shrugged my handsome shoulders in a way as if to imply that I didn't make the rules but if I did I might be open to some lady-favour bribery to change things. Much like a Mexican border guard.
But we need printouts! You know what they are like in Ibiza, they are really old-fashioned. You have to have a paper copy of everything?!
Her face creased with anxiety as she spoke and I was reminded of that time I found a pigeon with a broken wing in my garage.
Regretfully, the resulting soup was thin as there isn't much meat on a pigeon.
Tsk tsk. Milady, you simply cannot say such things as that in this day and age. It's racist.
I sat back smugly like Mr Green after "unmasking" some video effects.
one for the young uns :OD
It's not racist... I'm just saying that... that... it's old-fashioned?! They are old fashioned?! That's not racist?
The Good Lady looked desperately bereft like a Ku Klux Klan member realising the colour of coffee for the first time.
I shook my head.
Skip the racism baby, it's beneath you. Let's get back to printers. No one uses them anymore so get with the program.
I whistled what might have been the start of Midnight Cowboy, the Faith No More version at least. Nobody knows the original.
I wasn't being racist. And people still use printers. We have them in work so there!
She threw her trump card down triumphantly.
I chuckled. She was clutching at straws but as we all know straws aren't allowed anymore. Work printers indeed.
Nobody works any more baby. That's so five years ago.
I reached over for my guitar and readied to rawk the world.
Arrgh, sometimes I can't even have a straight conversation with you!
She glared at me then picked up her laundry and stomped off.
I strummed a beautiful chord that no one plays any more and smiled.
Just the way I like it, baby.