The ashtray, a hit or miss proposition.
I have an ashtray in my home. Well to be honest here, I have better than a half-dozen ashtrays because I don’t limit my smoking to one room. Anyway, the count doesn’t really matter because I am talking about one specific ashtray.
The ashtray I am referring to sits on a table in my den, right close to where I usually sit. That is to say, it is in close proximity to a very comfortable chair. To ensure you have all the facts, the place in the ashtray where you dump the ashes has a diameter of six inches (I measured it). Oh, yes, I don’t know if bourbon has anything to do with my little problem or not. But, as you know, I don’t like to get sidetracked, so let’s just forget about bourbon.
I don’t watch much television, except for old movies. I tell you this because my very comfortable chair is placed such that I can comfortably watch my television set.
What am I talking about? Hell, I almost forgot. Now I remember. Earlier, I mentioned that I had a little problem. The problem is this. How in the dickens do half of my cigarette ashes end up on the table instead of in the ashtray? I mean, it’s a fairly big ashtray and it’s only a couple of feet from me. How does this happen? What is the reason? And don’t say, “Bourbon.” I’ve already told you to forget about bourbon.
I reckon I shall never know the answer. It’s just one of those little mysteries of life.
You may also like “The Forties & The Fifties” by H.D. Ingles.
