I’ve been spending a lot of time in my car lately.
I haven’t been driving my car. I’ve just been spending a lot of time in my car.
My wife had some sort of medical procedure a while back. I probably should have asked my wife what sort of medical procedure she had a while back, but I’ve never been the nosy type.
The only thing I know is that my wife isn’t supposed to drive for a while, which leaves me with two choices:
No. 1: Tell my wife to enjoy the walk.
No. B: Spend all my free time driving my wife around town.
If you are a male and you guess that I opted for No. 1, I think we could assume that you are a single male. For the rest of you, I’m confident that you guessed I picked No. B, which is what I did.
But I wasn’t happy about it.
My wife is one of those people who have some sort of genetic defect that compels them to talk to everyone they see. When I accompany my wife to the large, 24-hour, retail store in our town it often takes her 30 minutes just to enter the store.
My wife once spent 17 minutes talking to a shopping cart. Well, I think my wife was talking to a shopping cart, but I could be wrong because I wasn’t with her at the time. I was already in the store and halfway to the beer aisle.
I’m a veteran husband, which means I have earned the right to keep walking while my wife keeps talking. So I do, unless of course, my wife stops to talk to a member of a Swedish Bikini Cheerleading team. I wouldn’t want Sweden to get upset with us. The last thing we need is a bunch of angry Swedes threatening us with yodels of mass destruction.
Swedes yodel, don’t they? Or, I’m I thinking about the Swiss? Probably doesn’t matter. To me, Sweden and Switzerland are pretty much like North and South Dakota.
Early in our marriage, I used to stay with my wife she when stopped to talk. But I also used to open the car door for her.
When we would go parties back then, it would take us three hours to leave. I finally got to the point where, when we arrived at a party, I would immediately start trying to leave so I could get home before midnight.
Host: Hello, thanks so much for coming.
Me: We had a great time. Good night.
My wife takes a while to do things, is what I’m trying to say. That’s why I’ve have been spending a lot of time in my car lately.
The other night I drove my wife to pick up our 12-year-old daughter, Emma, at dance class. Emma’s dance class ends at 9 p.m.
The way I figured it we could leave our house at 8:56 p.m. arrive at Emma’s dance class at 9 p.m. and be home by 9:04, meaning I would have only missed five minutes, at most, of the Kansas/Missouri basketball game. Instead, this is what happened:
8:40: At wife’s insistence, we left the house.
8:44: Arrived at dance class.
8:44:30: Wife entered dance class. I stayed in car.
9:45: Wife and Emma entered car. Woke me up.
9:49: Arrived home. I turned on TV see that the basketball score was something like KU 279, MU 4.
“Did you miss much of your game?” my wife asked.
In response I wanted to say, “&%$@# yes, I missed the whole @#$%$# game.”
But I didn’t. Like I said, I’m a veteran husband.
Address correspondence to Mike Pound, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, MO 64802, or via e-mail at mpound@joplinglobe.com.
