It all started as I strolled along the sidewalks of Chestnut Hill, PA, luxuriating in my tiny vacation. Nestled there with the gift shops and the art shops and the little cafes was a hardware store. Now, I could see at a glance, Viewer Dear, that this was no ordinary hardware store. If I had to make a call, I'd say it was also a "telephone shop" (though I'm clearly stretching the cord quite a bit on this one, considering there were no more than two dozen antique phones in that store window.)
Seeing as how I have at least one daughter with a fancy for old phones, and seeing as how I had plenty of time to fill in Chestnut Hill, I walked into the store.
(Though I'm a bit red-faced now, Reader Dear,
as there's not much more to this tale.)
The store-owner led me on an interesting tour
(but did not make a sale).
I can only say, due to the fact that I was on display in that case, along with the (possibly hapless) owner (whom I was blocking from a speedy exit), I did give some fanciful thought as to how I could lend a bit more adventure to the adventure*.
*Ah, Reader Dear, much as you may have enjoyed the titillating tale, the thrill of the rendition for me would certainly not be worth the extremes of that red face!**
**Only saying, Dear Reader, I'm not so willing as all that to make a fool of myself!