I Know, I Know... Dumb Idea (part two)

I was feeling playful.

     "Knock knock," I told my beautiful wife.

     "Who's there?" she asked.

     "The love of your life," I said.

     "Chocolate who?" she answered.

     Okay, that wasn't quite the reply I was looking for. I was looking for one thing that might lead to another, but, although beautiful, my wife is a bit of a joker. 

     So's my father. 

     For example, we were at a family gathering this past Easter when my cousin's toddler was acting up. Too much sugar would be my guess.

     "Sorry," my cousin said, "she's a bit spoiled."

     "No need to apologize," my father said, wrinkling his nose, "they all smell that way."

     But the time I'm actually thinking of is when my wife and I made the mistake of leaving an ongoing Scrabble game unattended, and our dog, who eats anything and everything, ate some of the tiles. My father, who was watching the baseball game du jour on the premium (and very expensive) baseball channel we buy for him, warned us, "Careful, the next time he goes to the bathroom could spell trouble."

     Actually, my wife pays for the baseball channel. It keeps my father entertained. Myself, I'm not into sports, so if it was up to me we'd only have the Cartoon Network. 

     I told you we ended up at the ER recently when my father slipped in the shower and gave himself a nice conk on the head. I mistakenly told you they gave him an x-ray. Well, that wasn't true. They checked him out, but fortunately it wasn't serious enough for an x-ray. My wife is the one who pointed out my mistake to me.

     "I just assumed they did," I said, giving her a weak explanation.

     "Don't you know what happens when you assume?" she told me. "You make an 'ass' of 'u' and 'me'. Mainly you."

     When we were in the ER a man came in. His right hand was burnt. It looked pretty nasty. Waiting to be called in, he sat next to us. My wife can talk to anybody, even a man with a burnt-up hand, so, of course, she struck up a conversation with the gentleman. He told her he wanted to mow his lawn, but his mower was empty. Instead of driving to the gas station, he decided to siphon a gallon or two from his car. (Yes, kids, we used to do that back in the day.) The gas poured out too fast and spilled over his right hand, which was the hand holding the water hose he was using as a siphoning device. Unfortunately, it was also holding a cigarette. 

     I know, I know... dumb idea.

     Poof! 

     His hand went up in flames. 

     It could have been worse, but it was bad enough.

     "It didn't hurt at first," he explained, "but when the fire reached my skin... wow."

     "You should give up smoking," my wife said, offering her expert medical opinion.

     "That's okay," he said, "I'll use my other hand."

     Everybody's a joker. 

*************************

Why call it "emotional baggage" when we could be calling it "griefcase"?