The Freelance Retort: Idiomatic of Nothing

Last time...yeah, way back then...I tried to do February a solid by talking up its good points.

Yeah...right?

Then, the next day, February dumped about 6 inches of snow.

And then, as if that weren’t enough, another 3 or so a couple of days later.

So I can only surmise, February likes its bad boy—or girl...who can tell with months—image.

But then it decided to change course, again, and throw a little springtime our way...with a little subfreezing temps mixed in—here and there...there and here— just to keep us on our toes.

Which I’ve always found to be an odd reaction...but there it is.

A bunch of people walking around on their toes.

Not that I’m complaining.

Well, I mean, yeah...I am complaining...but I’m supposed to say I’m not.

Not sure why.

All in all, I find the toe walking entertaining.

Plus it saves on shoe leather...or rubber.

Which goes hand in hand with my next proclamation.

Or more precisely foot in foot.

Because in my never ending effort towards self-improvement, I’ve decided to try and put my best foot forward.

Mostly because when I put my worst foot forward people tend to run away.

Hey...is it my fault I have a hinky looking foot?

I think it’s from playing kick ball as a kid.

Talk about adding insult to injury.

Bad enough my foot hurt, then that guy has to go and tell me my right ear is longer than my left?

Like I don’t know that.

I’d give an arm and a leg to straighten that out

Preferably, not one of mine.

If it’s your arm and leg I’d do it at the drop of a hat.

And, hopefully, I won’t step on the hat...with my bad foot.

Because your guess is as good as mine what would happen then.

Even if we do see eye to eye, which makes it kind of hard to focus past your nose.

I suppose you could always get a taste of your own medicine...which you should instead of dipping into mine.

Not that I’m trying to let the cat out of the bag.

Not after the big scratch it gave me last time...with or without the itch.

Of course I’m probably barking up the wrong tree.

And I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew.

Truth is, I’ll probably just cross that bridge when I come to it...otherwise I’ll get my shoes wet.

Makes sense, I guess.

Especially if you take it with a grain of salt.

Pepper is optional.

If you catch my drift.

And if you do, please hold onto it for me until I can steal your thunder, while pulling the wool over your eyes, which to be honest is a piece of cake, even though it only happens once in a blue moon.

Unless of course you’re on the fence and letting sleeping dogs lie. Possibly killing two birds with one stone, which to be honest is probably illegal, if not just plain wrong.

I mean they’re birds....what did they do to you?

It’s not their fault you missed the boat on what was supposed to be the next best thing since sliced bread.

Sure, while everyone else was jumping on the band wagon you were left holding the bag.

At least you didn’t put all your eggs in one basket.

Oh, sure...I suppose you could bang you head against the wall, if that makes you feel better...for some strange reason.

As long as you don’t count all your chickens before they’re hatched.

Especially if, as was previously mentioned, you’ve already let the cat out of the bag.

Who scared off the goose that laid the golden egg.

Which you should have used to make hay, while the iron was hot.

But no use crying over spilt milk.

Just let the cat who used to be in the bag lap it up.

Besides, the cows are already out of the barn.