And so back to happier yellow-brick-road memories after last week’s sad news.

Yes, Sir and I hit the 20-year mark, breaking all previous records, and what a roller-coaster ride those two decades have been.

I won’t dwell on the downs – but suffice it to say it has mostly involved the removal and/or rearrangement of a number of Sir’s organs, to the point that, if they took a look inside they’d find Fantastic Caverns, with enough space left over for a nice play-room for the kids.

The ups have, thankfully, far outweighed the downs, by about 3.4 pounds I’m happy to report.

We naturally both have our foibles, wherein I’m positive his outweigh mine by about 3.4 pounds, but after all this time, who is counting?

One of his foibles which I’m sure drove his parents right up the wall, his teachers around the bend, and his various employers into frosting mode rather endears him to me even more.

Sir, as you may know, has A.D.D. I would say he suffers from it, but truth be told I think he rather enjoys it, and after all, it gives him a perfect excuse when actually he’s behaving like the lazy sod – er – darling – that he is.

Take for example his recent trip to Costco. I have devised a list of everything we ever need there, and the check marks were mounting, so like the good little Vegemite he is, off he trooped.

Now you would think this would be about his forgetting to pick up what was actually needed. But no. Put Sir into a store selling anything in bulk, his testosterone zooms and he goes just a tiny bit berserk. Thankfully he didn’t decide we needed a 15-pound jar of capers, or a truckload of pre-Christmas ornaments.

He came home with both bulk toothpaste and bulk mouthwash, neither of which we needed, and proceeded to put them on a surface next to the cupboard in which they lived – see the A.D.D. kicked in – and that’s where they stayed, being moved several micrometers a day, but never actually making into their hidey-holes.

But his pièce de resistance, or piece of resistance if you prefer, was to buy enough dryer sheets to provide a glut for Independence, Lee’s Summit and Blue Springs combined. When he got home, he realized his error and returned 13 of the boxes, retaining the one for our personal use.

It’s a good thing the back seat of his car and his trunk are pretty full of work-like objects so he couldn’t buy more really. He then could’ve flipped my wig by pushing his car into a river, saying he needed a bigger one if I expected him to go shopping.

Just as the young Indian overly indulged young man did just this week. He flang his parental birthday present, a brand-new BMW into the drink as he insisted he needed a Jaguar so all his buddies could fit in, the Beemer of course being too small. I certainly hope mumsy and pater have learned their lesson and have offered him a lifetime supply of bus passes instead.

No Sir, no bigger vehicle for you, pet lamb. You really wouldn’t like the consequences.

Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at