Mind reading minus the usual cliches

Okay, this is becoming subepidermal. George thinks he can read my mind. Now I ask you, where does he come off thinking he can read it when I have difficulty doing so? It’s quite annoying.

I know you are all on the periphery of your perches for an example, and I just so happen to have one that occurred this very afternoon. George offered to go to the grocery store (that’s not the annoying part), so I was writing a list. I started to say, “Do you want to buy grapes?” but just as I began to say it, I glanced down and noticed grapes were already on the list. My question came out, “Do you wahnnn hmmhnn nbgh . . . nevermind.”

He said, “I know what you were going to say. You were going to ask if I wanted to buy something to cook on the grill.”

“No I wasn’t. I was going to ask if you wanted grapes, but then I saw they were already on the list, so I didn’t ask.”

“No.” He chuckled all superior-like. “You were going to ask if I wanted to cook on the grill, but you changed your mind, because you were hoping I would offer.”

WHAT??? Do I not know what I was asking and thinking and hoping? How dare he suggest I might be trying to manipulate him into taking over the cooking detail for the evening! I’m appalled and affronted, and no doubt I will go through the rest of the day with a nettle under my pillion.

Oh well. I guess I should just let it go. It’s all sub-viaduct liquid now anyway.

Yeah. So I wonder if George would want to cook out on the grill tonight?