It is the dead of winter here in The Midwest which means there’s been snow on the ground since the beginning of January, the temperatures haven’t gotten above freezing for weeks, and I’m suffering from the worst case of depression since 2004. Everyone is irritable and sleepy all the time, and there’s so much static electricity in my super-flat hair that I’m afriad I’m going to self-combust at any moment. Which would be fine with me at this point.However, a co-worker related a phone conversation he had with his wife this morning that actually brought a smile to my dry, cracked face:
She: Honey, are you going to mow tonight?
She: OK then, do we have enough propane to cook dinner outside?
He: I doubt it.
She: OK, then, could you stop on the way home to pick up some pool chemicals?
He: Dammit, honey, how many times do I have to remind you: We live on the beach, we use a firepit to cook in, and pool chemicals pollute the ocean.
She: Oh, I keep forgetting. OK, I’ll probably be home early tonight.
He: Well, just don’t stop at any of those damn beach vendors on your way home again. You’ve got enough of that cheap-ass jewelry to decorate a street whore.