Last night the spouse was checking up on me. I would mind, if I had a reason in hell to point to my record. You know? That just messes everything up. You can't even get an argument started.
"Did you deposit the rent check?"
"I'm waiting for the rest of them to arrive. Do it all at once. Efficiency. You know." (Might as well say something.)
"Where is it?"
Uh oh.
"It's.....righhhht.....here!"
Golly. It was! I handed it across to her, feeling pretty good about my self, and, basically, my managerial fortune. Upswing.
"This is great," she says, looking at the back of the check at arm-length. I think she's probably pretty impressed, as she should be, that I'm on top of stuff. I'm smiling over at her, pretending nonchalance, for credit, over what is really disinterest ~ and she says,
"It's endorsed with carrots, parsley, beets and apples."
Shit. |
