My wife and I married twenty-seven years ago. I am in my sixties while she remains in her fifties. I cannot reveal my age without revealing hers, so leave it at that.
A bug bit my leg last Saturday and it itched like the dickens. Showing it to my wife, “I think a spider bit me.”
“Ewe, it looks nasty. Don’t scratch it.”
“But it itches.”
“Don’t scratch it.”
I worked the day away and forgot about bedtime. However, my recent bout of shingles flared up. “Shingles are overactive tonight,” as a scratch my stomach.
With a what am I to do look, “That’s too bad. How is the spider bite on your leg?”
“Great, now my leg itches also.”
She chuckles at my dilemma as I fell to sleep trying not to scratch either of my itches.
The next morning she exclaimed, “I slept great. How did you sleep?”
“I tossed and turned.”
Is it a coincidence that my itchy predicament leads to a peaceful sleep for her?
Did I mention, my dog is a Karen? As mentioned before, Ginger likes barking at the dog two doors down. We call him her unrequited love. He lays without care while our dog barks wildly at him. This leaves me to fetch her into the house as not to upset the whole neighborhood. Opening the door, I shout, “Get your furry butt in the house,” and she runs for the door. However, she is a Karen and takes a victory lap or two before entering the house. It has to be Karen’s idea to do anything.
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