Bells, Bells, Bells
11December 2013
Every wife knows you hide the bells from a sick-at-home husband. A bell becomes an extension of a husband’s arm, which apparently as the sickest part of his body, constantly shakes, thus ringing the bell, constantly.
But when The Prince Consort had open heart surgery last Wednesday, I got out the bells I’ve hidden for the last 100 years of our marriage. He’s been officially promoted to The Prince Consort and Bell Master. I am just so glad he is recovering here at home. Able to ring a bell for anything including when the cat farts and causes a breeze in TPC’s direction. Who knew heart patients are allergic to cat farts? This could be bad. The dog is an even more expert farter. Big bell trouble in paradise.
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| Here’s TPC/BM’s chair-side bell, portable to the bed at night. |
Here are the Asian bells I inherited from my parents. They are out of reach, and I’m not sure TPC knows they are functioning bells and not just more dust catchers. We’ll keep that quiet. One bell is enough.
Here’s the pottery bell we picked out this past summer. Who knew we were picking a beautiful bell to celebrate TPC’s rescued heart!
Kath, who unlike E.A. Poe, is glad for the ringing of the bells.
