Bach’ing It

Water in the outside dog bowl was in the liquid phase this morning. The puzzled look on Harry’s face when it’s solid, watching him lap a pie-shaped icicle, priceless.

Happy Wife left us for a conference in Seattle. No worries. Once she sees the proverbial pasture is no greener she’ll come running, begging us — please! — to take her back. Ha!

Now, I did note among the clothes in the staging area on the bed, where clothes are placed before transfer to luggage, the slimming dress, high heels, and, was that a necklace?

“Well,” she says, “you said you wanted me to look nice for my night out with Beth.”

Careful what I ask for I guess. She greatly underestimates her allure when dressed this way. The heads I see turn she thinks I imagined. A case of feigned jealously meets true modesty.

“Well, sure, but, uh… that nice?”

Alas, it was too late. Into the luggage the clothes went, a thorough good-bye pet to each of the dogs, and she and I were off to the airport. Outside the car it was hugs and kisses aplenty, yet all I could think of to shout to her as she walked away pulling that suitcase behind her was, “Don’t talk to strangers!”

1 thought on “Bach’ing It”

  1. … all I could think of to shout to her as she walked away pulling that suitcase behind her was, “Don’t talk to strangers!”

    At least twice a month I go through rather the same routine you articulate with my Lovely Melis, Rod, though she is not heading to Seattle, but rather into the cornbelt of Iowa.

    I am so going to use that “Don’t talk to strangers!” line the next time she heads into the cornbelt. I’ll probably laugh as loud when I say it to her, as she heads on her way, as I did when I read your parting advice. Hilarious.

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