Prompt: If you don’t believe me…
You know I love my wife, but once in a while she manages to aggravate me to the point of pure desperation. I never quite understood how someone who shares your bed and your life can be so in the dark when it comes to things that are important to you.
Betty Charlene isn’t really dumb, you know. I think she knows pretty darn well that me havin’ a beer in front of the TV is just one of those things that’s meant to be, but time after time I come home after a hard day’s screwing over at the engine manufacturing place and find that she’s used my last brew to make some biscuits or something. She puts on that little-girl wide-eyed look and figures I’ll let her get away with it one more time.
The beer ain’t the worst of it, though. She’s come up with a special devilment for Saturday mornings, which for the record she thinks ought to start before noon. We’ve had words about this many times.
Anyhow, lately she’s taken to pounding on the siding outside the bedroom window. Every Saturday 9:00 in the a.m. regular as clockwork. She says it’s to save me havin’ to tack all those loose boards myself, but I know for a fact that every one of the damn boards was tight as a tick no more than a month ago, because I nailed them down myself just to get out of some other damfool thing she had on her “Get Joe Bob To Do This” list. If you don’t believe me, you come over and pull at a few of them yourself.
I figure the whole damn thing is her way of