My work day was interrupted too many times to count yesterday by the sounds of incessant drumming.
I knew what was going on – someone was banging the bottom of a feed tub – but I didn't know who to blame.
Every time I walked outside to look, the drumming stopped.
Me: Who's the wiseass making all the noise?
George: Not me.
Alan: Not me.
Lucy: Of course it's not me, and I'm insulted that you would even think that.
George: She knows it's me, doesn't she?
Alan: Pretend you're sleeping. Maybe she won't notice you.
It took a few more trips to the barn, but I finally caught the aspiring musician in the act: