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Writer's pictureDaniel MacPherson

Harmonized with Wife


Hello everyone,


The other day, my loving wife reminded me to pick an item from the store as the thought was bouncing around my head. I asked, “Why don’t you ever remind me when I don’t remember it for it was on my mind.” She laughed, “It’s my job to remind you.”


The next morning, I asked her to open the front windows as I typed some edits into my next book. “Where do you think I’m heading and what I am doing?” was her curt response. It seemed like great minds think alike.


Yesterday, we went grocery shopping. Taking our usual way home, “Isn’t the bridge still out?”


“Oh Crap, why don’t you remind me before the point of no return,” in frustration.


We turned around and headed back to the detour and I thought about how synced we are.


On the bright side, twenty-eight years of marriage brings two strange beings into one identifiable unit who remind each other of important details. The downside, we are so connected after all the years together, we both forget at the same time. If one remembers, the other remembers. If one forgets, the other forgets. As it says in James, count it all good.


Did I mention my dog is a Karen? Well, it happened to me again. Karen, I mean our dog Ginger pulled one of her favorite moments on me. She runs down to the television room ahead of me. I naturally offer to let her out. Instead of the grateful thankyou face, I received a how I dare suppose she needs to go out look. A quick shake of her floppy ears and she sprinted up the stairs.


I took my cue and settled into my recliner whose seat perfectly matched my behind. Just as my feet reached the upright position, I heard the patter of paws coming down the steps. Then the impatient and petulant moans and groans emanated from my dog wanting out. I looked over to the door and our loving pet stared back, “I’M WAITING!” as the Jeopardy theme radiated from the speakers. I rose to let her out and made it back for the introductions.


As luck would have it, she scratched to reenter the house as the first commercial started. “Ha, you came in during the commercial and didn’t interrupt my show,” boastfully exited my mouth. Ginger waited for Mayim Bialik to read the next answer. Instead of hearing the correct question, I heard the alert barking coming down from the top of the stairs overwhelming any responses. I climbed out of my chair again only to see our resident Karen run upstairs to complain to the manager, the mom of the house.


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God bless,

Danny Mac

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