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The notebook was soaked. Yes, I have copies on my computer, but these pages had my notes scribbled in the margins.
It would have made a nice exhibit in the Slimuseum. Or a at least a decent doorstop.
Guess I should pull out the blow dryer and see if I can save it!
I was talking to a Palm Springs pal a couple days ago about Hurricane Hilary. He was chatting about what happened when it blew through his neighborhood that Sunday...
“At noon all we had was a little drizzle. Then the rain picked up a bit. And around 4 PM, that’s when the **** hit the fan!”
And that got me thinking, Slim People.
Which is a bit dangerous for me because of my ailment. Attention Surplus Syndrome. You know the acronym. I think about things for too long.
As my ASS kicked into high gear, I started thinking…
Not about the destructive forces of nature, mind you.
I started thinking about the saying! That’s when the **** hit the fan. Where did that come from?
Was there ever a scenario where poop would actually come in contact with a fan?
Would it be accidental...Intentional?
Did people use fans and poop as weapons to protect their property against trespassers?
“Come any closer and you’ll be sorry!”
Did farmers use fans to spread manure on their fields?
Did people living in windmills toss bedpans out the front door during windstorms?
How did that expression come about?
Schuyler Wheeler invented the electric fan back in the 1880s. I read every word of his Wikipedia page. Twice!
There was no mention about anything other than air coming in contact with the blades.
Since nobody seemed to know the true origin of that disgusting phrase, I calmed my ASS down and began cleaning the Slim Shack.
Yes, I lost some stuff.
But a whole lot of stuff survived!
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