It’s been awhile since the old sketchbook’s been pulled out, has it not? But some days back, I began filling it in the middle of a conversation with Emily without even meaning to do so.
Emily’s job is to write abstracts of articles for various client newsletters, which means that she learns about a plethora of topics: vaccines, health care providers, burn wards, urinary tract infections, taxes, spiderweb adhesive, the effects of pacifiers on emotional development, skin cancer, neonatal care, kisspeptin, genome sequencing, anesthesia, printing, security measures in small businesses…and so on. Thus the following discussion:
Em: Sigh. This last abstract (not the grant one, I finished that) is also long and fairly dry.
T: I don’t know why, but that makes me want to invent peculiar similes.
long and fairly dry, like a freshly painted bench
long and fairly dry, like half-finished venison jerky
long and fairly dry, like wheat-fields a day after heavy rains
Em: like an expansive beach at low tide
T: long and fairly dry, like a tragically empty bottle of gin
DO NOT SPEAK OF SUCH THINGS.
T: Okay, um. long and fairly dry, like a watering trough in a drought
+2 different pronunciations of “ough” bonus
Em: Ehehehe, brilliant
T: Long and fairly dry, like Tristan’s hair after Captain Shakespeare finished styling it.
Em: . . . wha?
T: Heh, you need to see Stardust again
Em: I need to see it a first time, apparently.
T: Ummm, YES.
You would like Mark Strong.
And Charlie Cox ends up fairly legit. It’s a cute film.
Em: Ok then
T: Long and fairly dry, like a particularly obscure Monty Python sketch
Em: Oh gosh, yes
like a piece of uncooked spaghetti
T: ….blast, have I run out of similes?!
Em: I’m sure you could come up with more after a bit of brain-rest. 😉
T: Right then. Stamping the mail.
T: like a most irregular, inconvenient watercolor palette
Em: . . .
T: I’m reaching, aren’t I.
T: long and rather dry like an under-budget waterslide.
Which more or less settled the matter (is there anything worse than attempting to slide down a not-very-watery waterslide? I submit that reading an unpleasantly lengthy article would feel a bit like that). But later on, a few more possibilities occurred to me:
Long and rather dry, like a day-old baguette, or Ron Weasley’s corned beef sandwich, or a poorly-fashioned scone.
Long and rather dry, like an umbrella folded up some hours after the rain.
Long and rather dry, like sipping an aperitif from a martini glass rather than a pousse-café.
All of which reminds me that I’ve got something long (but not so dry) to go sip. Cheers!