Summer Saturdays find us setting a table at the local farmer’s market. My wife and daughter bake bread and muffins to sell along with our homemade dog treats. I portion a small part of the table to display my books and have sold a couple so far this summer. This past Saturday my wife previews the garden for fresh vegetables to sell but sees the rain falling from the sky. “It’s raining,” a disappointed voice calls out to no one in particular.
“It just a light sprinkle,” without looking up from the keyboard.
Her struggle to slip her shoes onto her feet distracts me for a moment and then she exits out the patio door. I create two more chapters for my next book when the patio door burst wide open, “It’s pouring,” screams at me.
She doesn’t say it, but the fault the rain decided to quadruple in intensity fell squarely on me. The cucumbers hit the counter with clunks as the annoyance transferred to me. For the record, I didn’t tell her to go, nor tell her it would remain a drizzle. Yet, somehow or another, it was my fault the rain drenched her in a sudden downpour as if I personally turned the spigot to increase the rain. Maybe shouldn’t have chuckled upon seeing my water-logged wife?
Did I mention my dog is a Karen? As many of you might have noticed, there was no Karen story last week. My wife read the post and found it amusing. With our dog half asleep next to her, “There is no story about Ginger.”
I jumped at the protest, “Arrr Arrr, Rooo-grrr, Roooo-er-roooo” as she spins with indignation.
Normally when we read stories about her being a Karen, we get groans and grunts stating, “Lies, untrue, and exaggerations.” The response to not having anything said about her translates to “How dare you do not talk about me. Don’t you know how important I am?”
She wanted nothing to do with me for an hour as she held a grudge for being ignored. I went to scratch her head only to have her walk away from my attention. I discovered last week that the only thing our Karen hates more than me telling on her, is not mentioning her at all. For the sake of harmony in the house, I will have a new Karen story every week. For the record, I already have a good Karen story for next week. This report to her got me a tail wag and a groan.
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