So after several days of thinking my wife was mad because I correctly identified that the chair had four legs in response to the questionable assertion of “Good Morning” she made, I finally found out what “Good Morning” actually meant.
In referring the UCC, a law professor of mine once said, “The words literally don’t mean what they say.”
UCC and wives — both marginally incomprehensible and frequently quite aggrev…. I mean wonderful to spend time with in the quiet of my study.
“Good morning” was code for “It’s my birthday, numbnuts.”
Opps. Don’t know how I could have missed that.
I didn’t get the facebook pop-up reminder that tells me when the second cousin of the chick I didn’t like high school’s birthday is. So in an effort to save face, I say, “Honey, the day isn’t over yet. (Where did I put those keys…) I still have time.”
I reach for my shoes when the voice turns the room cold.
“It was yesterday.”
The ship is going down. I make one last ditch effort to save myself.
“It must be because you don’t look a day over 33.”
“I turned 33.”
I’m just going to go out back and sit with the dog. We don’t have a dog. But if we did, I’d be claiming half the space in dog house.
Move over little dog, cause the big dog’s moving in.
Whelp. Nothing else I can do. Might was well study civ pro. Maybe there’s a motion for “Get my butt out of hot water” in there somewhere…