No Whining Allowed

I have been in here on the computer lately, while Honey has been in the family room, watching every baseball game he can find.

The other night I thought I would go and see what he was up to. It seemed like the considerate thing to do. We are married, you know. We’re supposed  to do everything together.

When I got in there, I told him that I would have sat down with him if he hadn’t been watching some supernaturally boring nonsense. He said he would change it, cause that’s how much he loves me. I said, nah, leave it.

So I sat down by his reclining form and we had a chat. Because he’s a multi tasker, that one.

I commented that I had heard him making some phone calls earlier.  He said he was talking to a cement man (to help us put our poor broken driveway back together after the sewer people come and destroy everything) recommended by a guy from work. Not a cement person, but what do you call someone who does some cement work for you? That’s a legitimate question. I have no idea. A paver? A cement layer? A cementer?

That’s when he told me he couldn’t remember the name of the guy from work. And it was driving him crazy. He said he has worked with him for 5 years and he could NOT remember his name. I sympathized with him. I told him that I had been to BSF (the Bible study) that day, and had talked to many women whose names escaped me. And, while there, we talked of other women whose names I did recall, but could not picture their faces. I also had a lengthy conversation with the assistant pastor of the church that hosts our BSF Bible study. I have been there for 9 years People, have walked by his office 9 thousand times. Seen his name on the door. Had no idea what his name was.

Add this conversation to some of our other topics lately. His dry face, our weight, our sore backs, his insomnia, our failing eye sight, and all the dental work we had this summer. Oh, and  have I ever mentioned that Honey drives a Grandpa Gray Taurus?

This is what we have deteriorated to. Just call us Nana and Pops.