Marital Bissell

Two Wickershams, one of which I'm married to.

This morning, I woke up in bed with a 70 year-old man.  How did that happen? The last thing I recall was strolling down the aisle at 24, waving to my friends and thinking, Wow, now I can quit my job and raise eight kids and clip grocery coupons! And that's pretty much what happened, except for the coupon part. I've yet to find a coupon for a free avocado or half-off a T-Bone steak. All I ever find is 50 cents off Polident.
So I jumped out of bed, grabbed my robe and headed for the door. No, wait- that was in a movie I saw. I sat on the edge of the bed until my arthritic knee clicked into place, then stumbled to the bathroom where I was greeted by an old hag in Spongebob pajamas. She was staring at me from the mirror. Where are all these old people coming from? I thought. Is this The Night of the Living Dead?

He's waiting for cash at this ATM.

So it's my husband Larry's birthday. I'm going to keep it low key, so he doesn't remember how old he is. He's in pretty decent shape for a guy his age, because for  44 years I've helped to keep him fit, by protecting him from harmful household cleaner fumes, not letting him lift heavy things like kids with super-soaked diapers, and making sure he gets enough sleep, especially in his chair during the day.









Last evening  I called a priest to the house, jut in case Larry collapsed as we reviewed our prenuptial agreement. The good and saintly cleric pointed out that Larry had promised to do all vacuuming for as long as we both shall live.

"I said WHAT?"

I figure if he starts today he can make up for lost time.
Happy Birthday, Larry!