Life is too short for boring stories

„But what is a Knurx?“, I tear myself from my thoughts.
„Not now, Daddy.“, I still hear, and then the front door falls into the lock. What did I want now? Oh yes, I look at the screen and my fingers reach into something sticky as they sink onto the keyboard. That was the small, annoyed lowered candy bar hand. Oh great! Now I cannot continue working there, I think. But what is a Knurx? Forget the nonsense, I say to myself, but for some reason I cannot get it out of my head. After I cannot continue working anyway, I decide to make a coffee. A candy bar graces my path. I turn on the water. Cold. I also wanted to call the installer. What is a Knurx? Now I do not care about the cold water and the chocolate bar trail. It just cannot be that my little daughter knows something that I do not know, which I have not even heard of. I sit in the car – I have to know it now.

But where should I look where I cannot use Wikipedia? In the library? No, I’m not going there! I start the car while getting to know a physicist from afar – there must be a Knurx, because that sounds so complicated. Maybe it’s the acronym for any newly discovered element. I start the car, at least I try it, but the engine stutters, stutters – a hint that gives hope, before he finally says nothing. The silence, the guilt – important I get out of the car, open the hood and look into it. Cable, and at all looks like a big mess. Why am I looking in there if I have no idea anyway? Nevertheless, I bend over it again, as if the engine whispered something to me. Just as I sigh, admitted that it is not the appropriate area for me to prove my masculinity and decide to call my mechanic, the phone falls out of my pocket. I just watch more like a nice, big Mercedes rolling over it. The cell phone is inferior, I must admit, as the flat rolled thing comes to light again.

How is life going now? Without a car, without a telephone? I try to remember what it was like when I did not have a car. Or maybe I should just go back to the house and wait for my wife and daughter to come home, but that would mean I admit my failure. I look around indecisively.

A telephone booth! – That there is something like this, that someone else needs it? Is there anyone else who does not own a cell phone? Must be so, because after all, it does not pay just not for people to set up the apparatus, which has just driven a Mercedes on the phone. I force myself through the swinging door, and automatically search for the menu key to get to the phone book. Such a strange phone, but why should be stored in a public telephone my numbers. Suspicious, I look at the yellow book lying under the phone. I refuse the book again and decide otherwise to enter the city. But how? Is not there a bus stop opposite our house? It remembers me because I’m always so annoyed with the delays I have to put up with through the buses and their passengers. Now I’m grateful she’s here. I join in the people who are already waiting. I conclude that soon a bus will have to come. Really! A few seconds later the bus stops and I get in.

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