My father reported his computer's printer was no longer working, and he needed it to work to print an attachment he'd written for his income tax return, so I headed over to his house. His printer had a message up saying it was out of blue ink. Well, "cyan".
My father didn't think this could be causing his printer to malfunction, since he only wanted to print with black ink. Which is logical enough, but I still suspected the printer was on strike until it got new ink. So I headed out to my car.
But when I went out to the street, I had occasion to meet a lady from the U.S. Postal Service, who was very glad to see me, because she had a package to deliver that was too heavy for her to carry - addressed to my father. I signed for it, noted it was wet at the bottom, put it in my father's house, and went out again to buy ink.
Upon my return, the ink proved to be, in fact, what the printer was waiting for. Once I replaced all three color cartridges, the printer was then happy to print using its black ink. Go figure.
At last attention returned to the mystery heavy wet package, which was from one of our relatives. We opened it, and it proved to be a fresh ham - a big uncured hunk of pig flesh. A lot like this, but sealed, or perhaps not-quite-sealed, in plastic:
I suggested to my father that we dig a fire pit in his side yard, and roast it there. He said no, that he would figure out some other way to cook it.
When will I get to stick my fork
into that giant hunk of pork?