Tonight, I think because she needed some cheering up, Tracey accused me of having a poor head for the little details. Naturally I protested this accusation and demanded she give me one example.
So she did.
Tracey, the kids and I were having lunch in the park last Friday when a bloke I hadn’t seen for a while came over for a chat.
“Hey!” I greeted him. “You’re back at work!” Clearly, cause he was wearing one of those reflector shirts which you just don’t sport on a day off. He’d been off work having an operation. “They’ve done a fantastic job,” I told him as I gave his lip a look. “I can’t even notice where they’ve cut it out.”
“Cut what out?” asked Tracey. I explained he’d recently had a growth cut out of his lip.
“Yeah,” he said, pointing to a nice scar on his bottom lip. “They’ve done well.”
Which was when I realized I’d been staring at the wrong lip.
Tracey one. Bruce nil. Again.
(And his lip really does look great).
