My wife began her official summer off today and I have to say that it is going to be strange having her around all day. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife and she is my best friend, but as we all know, there comes a time when a person needs to be alone and the day time hours are my time hours. That is when I do my writing, watch my TV, catch up on my emails and generally do whatever I want, when I want. If I don't want to get dressed until noon--I don't; if I want to do some yardwork, I do. If want to sit and contemplate my navel, I get a mirror and do so.
For a couple weeks, my style has been cramped by my brother-in-law who has been spending time with us recovering from an amputation. By style I mean I have had to put on clothes at a regular time every day. (Never mind the image, go with me...) I have not been exactly free to do my thing when I want to do it... I have felt as stifled as Edith Bunker. He moves out May 31.
But my wife is now home for a while. Don't get me wrong, she has seen me naked on at least two occasions that I can think of (no, maybe it was dark both times...) but with her home, the chance for happenstance visitors increases. So now I have to break my devil-may-care attitude and return the Victorian times and make sure that my outerwear covers most of my body berka like.
This really should not be a problem, after all, she spends most of her time by the pool during the day reading a good book. No, not mine. She says that she does not have to read it again.
So, What's a guy to do?
Doughnut
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