Well, quick-ish, anyway.
Which is, for those of your following along at home, an all right use of 'ish', but not fantastic. Sort of a more traditional use of 'ish,' which is fine, if you're into traditional, or occasionally pay homage to it, or simply don't abhor it. Which I don't. Tradition is nice, it's okay. It has it's place, certainly. It's just tough, with kids these days putting such a premium on using words in the latest fashion, which is, after all, just a fashion. And a fashion being somewhat limited in scope, on a time-al sort of scale, which isn't a word, and I probably would have been better served by using the word 'temporal', but I always have vague associations of tempura with that word, and, to be honest, don't feel comfortable bringing similar associations to people's minds myself. Others may, but I feel somewhat duty-bound -- which may be a bit of a strong voicing of the sentiment, itself, maybe I feel more chagrined, or perhaps mildly apologetic -- and of a mind to, you know, sort of keep to the straight and narrow. Or at least narrow. Of course, that's not entirely accurate, either. In fact, it might just be wrong, which is, of course, technically, inaccurate. Inaccuracy, unplugged.
So traditional, in this case, being the non-fashionable, or not strictly fashionable route I've taken, not terribly boldly, to be honest, as it was a bit of an afterthought, the whole traditional approach. "Temporally unawares," you might say, if you were describing the incident to a friend, hopefully a friend who was interested in hearing the story, and in fact one who would derive enjoyment from the tale, perhaps with a bit of instruction, as tales that are both instructive and enjoyable have no equal, really. And the friend might nod, sagely, you might think, or they might think, if they realised the potentially instructive and enjoyable facets of the preceding story, and think to themselves, and hopefully out loud for the greater enjoyment and instruction, "Yes. Temporally unawares."
I was born in a small town, which is a song, and only partially true. About the being born bit, not the song. Or, I suppose, if the one is wrong the other is wrong, but I'm not going to pursue a rigourous logical proof against the validity of the preceding statement's accuracy pertaining to the preceding-plus-two's validity. I was born, as it happens, in a town-like city thing not unlike the one you might picture Time: a novel taking place in:
It was not, in fact, a small town, but more like a medium-sized city. Maybe a bit of a large township, but definitely not by any means even a small city. Or a big city.This isn't terribly relevant, so, but a fact. Not terribly descriptive, which helps it out, as facts goes, because once you go introducing descriptive bits and things of that nature you run the risk of being Wrong, which then doesn't quite make your fact quite so factual any longer. Or at least renders it incredibly unhelpful, as facts go. Moreso than if they're just vague, I find, often.
And I also have, or had, a large collection of mini candy bar wrappers all over my sofa, looking like some detritus of a flood rummaging through a chocolate bar factory and coming out the other side soggy (as you might imagine a flood being) and colourful, with wrappers the colour of the rainbow and more, as the rainbow rarely comes in shiney red wrappers with smidges of chocolate and crispy thing around the edges.
Which is not to say rainbows aren't special in their own way.
disclaimer:
Fantastical, just absolutely fantasticalicious.
You, m'dears, have a good one.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. Sugar pie, honeybunch...