"I dreamed you had a beard last night"
I told my wife recently.
"What nonsense" she replied,
while crocheting rubber bands into
a bath mat.
That's what I love about her;
she is handy to have around
and doesn't let flattery turn her head.
"I'm going out for a walk" I said.
"Be back before Christmas" she told me.
"Okie-dokie, smokey." I blew her a kiss
as I went out the door.
They were having a run on the fog bank;
so I stood around to watch that for a while.
Luckily, I don't keep any funds in the cloud.
Then I went into the park to look for old men.
Older than me.
To watch them wander around looking for
a bench that didn't have a puddle in the
middle of it.
You might think such a thing sad,
but the old men are refreshed with
such a legitimate beef --
one they can tell their kids
and send crotchety emails to
City Hall about.
There was a pine tree
giving me the fish eye,
so I moved along to
the crowbar factory --
where I have a friend
in the curling department.
But he wasn't in.
So I bought a dozen crowbars
as Christmas presents
and lugged them back home.
Where my wife was turning
thumbtacks into brads
for when we repair the
belvedere.
Didn't I tell you;
she's the complete package?
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