Spring is at last beginning to take hold. Thank God, because I am tired of carrying firewood. The wood I thought would last three years is about gone. Each time one of my children starts whining if they can turn on the electric heat, I throw a lighter’d knot on the fire and in a few minutes they have to get far away from the hearth or burn up.
Yes, it has been a hard winter but let’s look at the bright side. My collards have had 20 frosts and they are sweeter than honey, we are healthy and my wife still has a job. I keep telling her that it’s not much of a woman that cannot make one man a good living. She is young. She believes me.
I glory in doing the housework, washing windows, cooking, washing clothes and the like. I do this because we still do not have chickens in our houses and the real estate auction business is slow like most businesses around here.
I have taken a fancy to watching the stories (Lord, I am getting old) but I will have the vacuum sitting in the room and when I hear the little woman drive in, I jump up, turn off the TV, put on my apron and start vacuuming like a champ. If I have time I splash a little water on my face to make it look like I am sweating. When she walks in I switch off the machine, wipe my brow with the apron, and act like I am just about dead. If she reads this, I’ll tell her I was just joking and that I really am working. It works every time. She is such a pushover.
I love to grocery shop and I compare the prices and use coupons. I try to avoid Wednesday at Harvey’s, as it is usually crowded, so this past Wednesday when I had to get a few items, I went to Wally World. As I compared prices down the candy aisle, I met not Ray and the tattooed lady. When she saw me her eyes went big, and not in the good way. Fire shot from her eye sockets (evidently someone told her about the article of in last week’s issue). I walked right past her, trying to look straight ahead and say nothing. Just as I passed, however, I had to glance at her arm to see how her tattoo removal was going and she hissed, “You think you funny don’t you, big man,” and not Ray gave me a menacing stare. I snapped my eyes back forward and kept going but at a more brisk pace and acted like I did not hear her.
Once I got around the corner and out of sight, I ran to the checkout as fast as I could. Thank God my buddy, Carolyn Clay, who knows what she is doing, was working the register when I slid in on two wheels. I told her I was in a hurry and as she got to work she laughed and asked me, “What you in such a hurry for and why you keep looking over your shoulder? You act like somebody after you.”
Carolyn didn’t know it, but if I had seen the tattooed lady and not Ray coming, I would have left the groceries, buggy and all.
It might have been better if I had used someone else’s picture on my column and maybe someone else’s name because I am getting paranoid. I hope not Ray and the tattooed lady never find out where I live.