Friday, March 22, 2013

We'd Forget our Heads If They Weren't Screwed On

            Who's the more forgetful person in this picture?
            Andy left for Milwaukee around 12:30 on Wednesday, after spending three days in Middleton, hanging out at home with Dad, for the most part, as JoAnna had meetings on both Monday and Tuesday evenings.   (Some of that time he spent applying for jobs -- a total of 9.)
            As soon as he left, I headed for the living room couch to take a nap.  On the days that I teach, I always feel the need for an afternoon refresher.  The timing of my class (5:30 to 8:00 p.m.) doesn't fit into the natural flow and rhythm of my day.  I've been an early-riser kind of guy for most of my married life.  (I certainly didn't fit that pattern beforehand.)   Now I find that I'm freshest in the morning and at a low energy level during the evening.  Fortunately, I've made the necessary adjustments to keep me charged up throughout my 2 1/2 hour class.
            Following a half-hour snooze, I stripped the sheets from the bed in which Andy had slept and carried them to the utility room, where I was greeted by the sight of a basket filled with clean laundry.  Andy's.  I immediately called him on my cell phone.
            "You forgot your clothes," I announced, a sense of urgency in my voice.
            He seemed, at first, not to understand what I was talking about.
            "The clothes you brought home," I prompted. 
            "I'm almost to Johnson Creek," Andy explained, as if he had already reached teh point of no return.
            "Andy, you left behind a lot of clothes.  I'm sure you're going to need them before your next trip home."
            "OK, I'll come and get them," he conceded, a bit reluctantly, I thought.
            As he hefted the basket to bring to his car, he remembered the bag of goodies he'd purchased at Dollar Tree the previous day, the need for a dish drainer being the primary reason for this visit.
            There's more.
            Once I returned home after my evening class, I opened the refrigerator to select something to eat among the week's leftovers and spotted two plastic containers of food that I'd prepared for Andy:  beef stew from Monday and turkey breast and "trimmings" from Tuesday.
            What a pair of airheads.
            This series of incidents makes me wonder how the two of us get out of bed unassisted each morning.

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