Pioneering...

Holy hell. I got him. I actually rendered Didgeridoo Boy a bit retortless over the weekend. Not speechless, mind you, that's impossible. But for a moment I honestly had him scrambling for a response.

Saturday morning, I was doing housework - running the vacuum, clearing Didge's snack remnants, and so forth. He was in the dining room for a bit, tippity tappitying away at what seemed a heated reply on Facebook, and then wandered back to the bedroom as I began vacuuming the living room. I started the dishwasher. Given that I tend to load the thing up very quickly, and with only enough care to keep things from shattering mid-cycle, clinks and clangs aren't foreign noises. They were especially loud Saturday, and could be heard very clearly over the vacuum.

Didge appeared. "What the hell is that noise?" I told him it was the dishwasher, and he expressed a strong desire that I do something about it. "It's not hurting anything", I said, "it'll be done soon." I went back to running the vacuum. The idea of the noise continuing was not to Didge's liking. I turned off the vacuum and said:

"Listen to it, though. Just listen. It's kind of rhythmic. Doesn't it make you feel like a pioneer in a covered wagon, traveling along with all the pots and pans clanging?" I swished the skirt of my black maxi dress around. "See? I'm even wearing a long skirt. I'm kind of in the mood to play pioneer this morning."

One of his eyebrows went up, and his mouth fell open. There he stood. He put one hand on his hip, and began bouncing one knee, acting like he was about to shake his finger at me.

"You don't like it? It doesn't make you feel like you're in a covered wagon?"

The other eyebrow went to meet the one that was still up. We stood there, me swishing my skirt for a little more dramatic effect, Didge bouncing a bit, looking like he wanted to shake his head very hard and very fast. Finally, he said:

"I'll tell you what will make you feel like you're in a covered wagon." I inquired as to what that might be. "A sore ass from having my foot up it." (Yes, that's all he could come up with. I'm as shocked as you are.) He looked around, finally took his hand off his hip, and walked back to the bedroom.

Since his arrival in September of 2009, I have never, ever seen him so completely at a loss for a response. I felt sorry enough for him to stop the clanging noise in the dishwasher.