“What do you need at the Goodwill? I ask John. “Tent holes.” He says.
“Tent holes? What are tent holes?” I’m thinking. I can understand needing 50 toy animals that are all white and no more than 1 ½” tall, which is what I need. I guess tent stuff appeals to guys so I ask does he want TENT STAKES and he says, “No.” To be fair let me explain he just woke up 4 minutes ago and all he can say is “tent holes”.
Actually I don’t want him to explain now. Because I’m imagining what these things must look like; someone plants a tent, then pulls it up, digs around the holes left by the stakes, and carefully transplants them to beautifully decorated clay pots. This is the only first to appear to my mind’s eye but, while I’m imagining more exotic explanations, my mind overlaps my thinking with the questions. So I ask, “Are you going to plant possums standing up stiff on their petrifies tails in those holes? When you catch the critters are you going to soak them in starch to keep them stiff?”
John keeps reminding me he just woke up. “I’m just playing with you brain.” I answer and get a cock eyed smile.
I don’t want to discourage John but I hope he never finds tent holes, I’d only be disappointed.  nancymauerman.com