Himself announced dinner was ready. He cooked Sunday dinner while I was playing on the computer. When I got upstairs, the table was set, and he was preparing plates. I helped get beverages and sundries and carried them out to the sunroom. We make a good team.
I sighed.
"What's the matter?" Himself asked.
"Oh, I was just thinking how peaceful our home is. No one sings 'The Stupid Song.'"
"Just wait until next week," he quipped.
"Next week?"
"Yeah, the Holy Day of Obligation. Mother's Day. The Weebles will be here."
2 comments:
at least you'll be on home turf?
what a buzz-kill!
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