my sense of relative size is a bit weak, he said. for instance, only this morning there was a vast obelisk towering over me, swatched with massive sheets of heavy linen; must have been twenty feet high at least! i was afraid it was going to fall on me.
and i suppose it was just the kleenex box by your bed.
and the other day, i went out for some groceries, and there was this little flat box, about three inches wide, this little gray box on the ground, and these tiny ants crawling in and out. well, that wasn't going to do me any good!
oh, i got a cart and went on inside.
what happens when you want to watch tv, jones?
ah, well you may ask! it's either the size of a sugar cuge with little flashing lights on it, or it's this vast gargantuan thing the size of mount everest. the booming! it nearly breaks my ears. and just imagine barbara walters three miles high!
dinner at the joneses.
first mr jones spends half an hour trying to walk around and/or row across his bowl of soup. "harold!" says mrs jones, "snap out of it!" "oh right" says he, picking up his spoon.
then he's all right for a while, but then it's time for spaghetti and you should see him heave those ropes! "takes ten men to pull a one of em" he cries, clearly back in the ancient world of sailing ships. "harold!" shouts the mrs, and he gets on with it.
dessert is no problem, but the cream pitcher for his coffee seems to have turned into niagara falls. "other people would like some too, dear" mrs j points out.