Or at least taking a towel to work.
Instead, because I'm an idiot.
My trusty stick of Mennen was rubbed down to the plastic nub, no longer able to protect me from the tense and sweaty rigors of daily life.
Maybe I'm driving too close to the retirement homes.
She picks a spot, ostensibly depending on which awkward position I happen to be dozing in. This is why we don't have goodnight kisses at two AM any more. And before seven, I'm downright evil.
Meanwhile, I wake up later and stay late at the office most evenings, and play 'fat old man sports' like softball and billiards when I have the chance.
So rather than rail and complain about our populace's seeming indifference to the rules of proper English, I decided to contribute to the cause, in my own small way.
First, it's my wife who's responsible for initiating the process.
Can I just get some pious prat to pray to, to give me a fighting chance? Luckily for us both, my nightstand lamp was out of reach. Right Where I Want Them! Meanwhile, I wake up later and stay late at the office most evenings, and play 'fat old man sports' like softball and billiards when I have the chance.
I'm not picky about my personal saviors; I can decide who to worship after I'm dead. Maybe I'm driving too close to the retirement homes.
I don't need that kind of hassle.
I say they've earned a little help from above.
Give me a fighting chance, already. Chicks don't dig a scrub on crutches, and he dropped out of the honeys' hearts, off the team, and flunked out of school when he failed his 'Remedial Shoe-Tying' class for the third time. When you live the way I do, epiphanies have a way of getting buried under the clutter on your desk.
Not only am I awakened just as rudely, but if I try surprising her again, I'll get a nine iron to the noggin, too. Stop looking at me like that.
That proved to be problematic. Maybe there's something to this 'early bird' crap, after all. Haven't these poor women been through enough already? Maybe there's something to this 'early bird' crap, after all. Not only am I awakened just as rudely, but if I try surprising her again, I'll get a nine iron to the noggin, too. They are not visible to the user.
First, it's my wife who's responsible for initiating the process.
I'd probably throw a few cars out of the way.
I'd probably throw a few cars out of the way.
Especially if she also could scratch her ears with her feet or sniff my crotch at inappropriate times.
Shunned by her former colleagues, she moved and took a position as an 'honors' English instructor for a private school in Maine.
In another week or two, it should become glaringly obvious whether she's birthing a baby, or binging on bonbons.
He never played much, but parlayed his team sweats and official practice jersey into the dorm rooms of most of the sorority chapters on campus.
My trusty stick of Mennen was rubbed down to the plastic nub, no longer able to protect me from the tense and sweaty rigors of daily life.
Once the epiphany hit, I got to work immediately on a new set of memory aids. Or mangled by the dog and forgotten in the dirty clothes basket.