The other week the better-half and I were listening to one of our “mellow gold” compilations and the Vicky Lawrence song “The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia” got stuck in the better-half’s head. Today, while getting ready for work he asked me a question about the soap opera that is that song. As he could tell, I wasn’t really prepared to answer the question (because I honestly couldn’t remember some of the nuances of the story) and so he asked me if the sheriff had buttstains on his hands. That made me laugh and I said no, silly, it’s bloodstains.
After getting to work, we looked at the lyrics of the song and then mapped out the story. I’ve included our mapping so you, too, can plainly see that Brother’s sister should have fessed up to killing Andy and the no-good wife. She should quit telling us about the miscarriage of justice and just confess.
P.S. While this has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of this post, I have to say that I’m sick of not sleeping. Really sick of it. I don’t think I’ve had more than 3 hours of sleep each night for the past 5 days. Last night at about 3 am I took a Benedryl not because I thought it would help with my congestion but because I knew it would knock me out. I left the wrapper on the bathroom counter in case it actually killed me since I mixed it with other medications.