I answered the phone this afternoon and was greeted by a broad Irish brogue. "Top o' the mornin' to ya, darlin'!"
He continued, "I know you have a bit of Irish in ye, but I'm thinkin' you don't know so much about the folklore of your country, so allow me to educate ye. All those times ye misplaced a tool in that house of yours, all those many many many times, you've been thinkin' it was your own daft head causin' that. But that's not the case, me girl. Twas the fairies who did that. You've failed to show the fairies what a kind heart ye have, and so they bedevil ye. So the next time you're workin' on that house of yours, be sure to leave a wee bit of food out for the fairies. Sure, they may not eat it, but it's showin' them that ye have a kind heart."
When my laughter subsided enough that I could speak a complete sentence, I said, "Happy St. Patrick's Day to you too, Bob!"
White Trash Bob. The inimitable, irrepressible White Trash Bob. Gosh, I'll miss living across the street from that man. He's constant entertainment.