Friday, April 17, 2009

Hey, Is Everything Free?

I don't even know why I go out in public with my husband. Since he's retired,he's become...well, an old man. He works around the house on his wood projects or out in the yard on good days and he's like a little boy. He doesn't clean his hands before he reaches into his pockets for one thing. Let me tell ya, I can't get his everyday pants clean. There's just no way. He has dirt, grass, paint, and who knows what other kinds of stains on his clothes. So, when I call on my way home and ask if he wants to go out to eat, I should have my head examined. Something is wrong with me. I KNOW what he'll look like, because he sees no reason to change his clothes. Oh, wait, I take that back, he will change his shirt, but he just dusts off his pants and he's ready to go. To make matters worse, he has his favorite quilted flannel jacket shirt which he wears when it's "just a bit chilly" outside. It's plaid. It's blue...or rather dirty blue. The cuffs look like his pants. So does the collar. Choke me now.

So, now you have a picture, right. Okay, we go to Bob Evans last night for dinner. I pretend that I'm blind and can't see what he looks like. We have a nice meal and finally escape. NOT! We get to the register to pay and no one is there. I don't worry because I know someone will come soon. A minute later...it might have seemed a bit longer...my road construction crew hubby walks back to the counter and announces to the ENTIRE RESTAURANT..."Hey! Is anybody working the register or is everything free tonight!"

Finally, a girl comes running to the register. I feel bad. I feel like running out and letting him pay. But, being the one who tries to smooth things over, I give a little laugh as she comes toward me. But hubby, says again, "I thought maybe everything was free." She mutters, but loud enough for me to hear, "Nothing is free." And he doesn't stop there. "It took so long to get someone over here that I could have walked out of here three times already without paying."

He laughs when I tell him that he's becoming this cantankerous OLD MAN. A Mean Old Man.

Thanks for stopping by.

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