|After another hot and humid day, a bit of rain slides in.|
"Yeah, right Dad. Why do you bother? Mom is a perfectionist, no matter how hard you clean, you just know she'll find something amiss."
Admittedly, that's why in the past my efforts at house chores had been less than optimal. But then I remembered something from last year, when I had again put some effort into cleaning. While I was rather proud of the job I had done, she walked in, pointed at the faucet in the kitchen sink and exclaimed, "It's like you don't even care!"
So this year I polished the faucet in the kitchen. The faucet in the downstairs bath AND the faucet in the upstairs bath.
When we arrived home from the airport, she walked into the house, commented on the humidity (bear in mind, in the Lemoore region of California humidity is typically not an issue, in Little Rhody by the Bay, it's a BIG issue), said hello to the feline staff (one of whom was ecstatic to see Mama, the other decided to shun Mother for having been gone an entire month), looked about and simply said, "I'm tired."
Now I was pleased that a tirade as to my apparent need to "live in a pig sty" didn't follow her entry into Chez Sarge. However, praise craver that I am, I pointed to the faucet in the downstairs bath and said, "See my Dear, I even cleaned the faucets this time." Rather than pat me on the head and point out what an idiot I was, she nodded, smiled, and said, "Yes, I noticed."
|Are ya gonna rain, or not?|
So I figured I was home free. Did the job. Looked good. Wife happy, me happy.
Yes, kinda like that.
I checked my phone to see if it was trying to tell me something, sure enough, a fellow Lexican had sent me a Book O' Face "personal message." (I find that terminology odd, I mean, is the Book O' Face capable of sending impersonal messages? But I digress...)
Now the "PM" was seeking a meet up as this fellow Lexican was going to be in the area and perhaps I might like to have a pint of the Guinness with him. Of course, I answered in the affirmative. Then I figured that I better call My Lord and Master, The Missus Herself and see if she wished to accompany me to the place where Guinness is served.
So I rang her up and jocularly asked if she was recuperating from being with the grandkids for a month.
Which I thought would be like this...
Nah, more like this...
Yeah, the grandkids take after me in some ways.
But The Missus Herself wasn't going to play along with my jocular tone, seems that I had mistreated the garden in her absence and the weeds were taking over. She was not pleased. No, not at all...
So this day, Saturday, I am to do penance in the yard. Pulling weeds (I don't think she said, "with your teeth" but I wouldn't put it past her) and various and sundry other gardening related things.
But she did agree that going to a place where Guinness is served on draft (and a very lovely plate of bangers and mash can be had) was a right fine idea. "Yes, yes I will accompany you to meet this Lexican fellow," said the love of my life.
So, I've got that going for me.
|So did it rain? (I know you need to know.)|
|Why yes, yes it did.|
(Just enough to boost the humidity to Fort Walton Beach levels...)
Yeah, I've got that to look forward to, while pulling weeds...
...in the yard...
...with my teeth.
You'd think I'd learn to listen to my better half.