“I feel hot today,” I remarked to my husband.
And was summarily dragged towards the bedroom before the more appropriate connection was made between ‘hot’ and ‘fever’.
…Sick, not sexy.
THANK you. I think.
Language has undergone many changes; not the least of which is the permutation of a degree of slang into everyday lingo that can lead to hostile takeovers, gross misunderstandings, and further complications in communications between da sexes.
On a linguistic tear, the other day I looked out the window and remarked, “How wild.”
What I MEANT was the bobcat tail vanishing into the Back 40 looked NOTHING like the local feral cats; especially if the deer carcass espied slightly beyond was any indication (…no matter how hungry, Fluffy was fairly unlikely to have anything to do with meat that didn’t involve a can opener).
”You lookin at ME???”
The Peanut Gallery presumed my comment pertained to a long-rumored party next door and apparently showed up on the neighbors’ doorstep sporting a party hat and a six-pack, much to their puzzlement (I explained it by the usual airy adage, “Oh, he does this all the time.” whilst hauling him away under protest (his). I left THEM to interpret that…)
In this case my “how wild” in his perception translated to ‘party’. Apparently having WILDLIFE was not the same as leading a wild life. Two different wildlives reside under one word separated only by a punch of the space bar…
Other incongruities evolved this week:
1. The Peanut Gallery left the room muttering something about ‘nipping it in the bud’.
While I was steamily speculating on which of my behaviors was earning criticism this time, he was in the garage searching out flower vases and clippers. (A big fight ensued upon his return until flowers were presented and all was summarily forgiven.)
2. I was informed our neighbor had ‘gone on a trip’.
I envisioned a cruise. Silly me. Apparently his boat never left the harbor and the ‘trip’ involved some kinda recreational drug.
3. I missed the ‘he’s’ opening Bill’s ‘not the sharpest pencil in the pack’ statement; so perhaps it explains his puzzlement when later in the day, after my shopping trip into town, he received an entire PACK of sharpened pencils with the mysterious note: “HERE. Don’t say I never get anything for you!”
Perhaps proving my own mental prowess in the matter. Or my generosity. Either one.
(And note: the response “thank you… I THINK” is modern colloquial for the notion that one’s gift hasn’t had entirely the desired result. I think.)
Perhaps this is why people often talk at cross-purposes, often able to conduct entire conversations whilst meaning different things.
And why English is riddled with such special challenges for those not imbedded at a young age…the slang will kill ya.
You can thank me. I THINK.