My husband returned home from NY last night after spending the weekend there helping his dad put the boat into the water, mowing the lawn at our house and doing various other things.
Later, as I read in bed, Druck came into the room, sighed, removed his glasses, and said, "I can't sleep."
"You're not even in bed yet. What's that on your face?"
"A mosquito bite. There's a mosquito in the living room and I'm all bit up. My legs, my ankles." Another sigh. As he leaned over to open the dresser drawer, he moaned, "My back hurts."
"Who are you tonight? Woody Allen?" A smirk crossed his face at the suggestion (which, by the way, was on target).
As he climbed into bed, he said, "There was a noisy mouse in the attic all weekend [in NY]. I barely slept."
"Aw, you poor thing."
"I think it was munching on your settee."
"What? What did you say?"
"Your settee."
"What settee? What was munching on my settee?"
"Boy, your mouth is just a-runnin' non-stop before you even let it sink in what I am saying."
"I got what you were saying, but I want to know what was munching on my settee."
"The mouse."
"What mouse? The one in the attic? How could he munch on my settee if he was in the attic? Did you see a mouse or evidence of it munching on my settee?"
"No."
"Then why did you say that?"
"Good night. My back hurts."
"Poor thing. Would you like a back rub?"
"Please."
A woman's work truly is never done.
Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma