Good Wife

We were conversing over coffee early this morning. MW pointed out how good she has been lately. I had not noticed her being extra good, or just good for that matter (I may get into trouble for this comment). I must have looked puzzled, for she continued.

She then pointed out the impending arrival of her parents on their semi-annual visit. Oh yes! I know all about that. She goes nuts a couple of weeks before, and stays nuts during the week-long visit and another week or two afterward. Read that as “I must tread lightly and pretend that I am not here, but there is no way I will get away with anything even if it was not my fault.” That’s all right. I have a relatively thick hide.

Funny thing, although she has been mistreating me a bit lately (but not in a good way), it was not to the extent that she had in the past under similar circumstances. It reminded me of the “Former Chief Inspector Dreyfus” in one of the Pink Panther movies as he was trying to convince his shrink that he was sane (just before he escaped from the asylum, and created the doomsday machine by kidnapping its designer and lovely daughter and destroyed the UN building in New York). He said, “Every day in every way I am getting better and better …”

So is MW. I think that in about three weeks we might get back to what we call normal. For now I am still dragging my ass after another session of hard labor on the roof. I have one more day to go before completion. Then we will have to give it the smoke test as we used to say in the lab while in college. Rain is expected at the end of the week. Need I say more?

Oh yeah, she is distracted on account of the impending visit. For example, my balls have been sprouting the usual curly stuff, and she does not acknowledge it. I mean, usually, when I miss a shave, she whips my ass for it. Now, a quarter inch stubble means nothing. I walk around in my natural state. She does not comment on my parts, including the Prince Albert enhancement and such. So I know that she is in “parent space”. I am sorry about that. She likes them, she loves them, but they drive her … ah … you know. We all have our baggage.