A Good Saturday, Bad Sunday

Everything about this weekend is just plain weird. It started Thursday night when Elaine said, “Tomorrow, you should bring home the stuff from The Orange Depot to finish the gate on Saturday.” That doesn’t seem too weird, but I have to be honest with you. I usually arrange my weekends so I can go to town on Saturday get the stuff I need to work around the house after story time on Sunday. That way, I’m assured at least on day of just goofing off.

After forty plus years of marriage, I have developed a, let’s call it, a disease. When Elaine starts a sentence with “You should”, something happens to my hearing. I don't hear anything after you should. The doctors can’t figure it out. My hearing is perfect until Elaine says, “You should”. Personally, I don’t think it’s a big deal. Elaine seems to hate it, even though there is no cure.