The Price I Pay

I'm in the great room by myself, sitting in my favorite chair, and watching something other than baseball for a change.

     How did I get so lucky? I don't know. My Dad must be taking a nap or something. He's 94-years-old. Maybe I should check on him. But--dang it!--I'm really enjoying myself, because my hitting the trifecta of television-watching is so rare.

     My wife walks in. She gives me a big smile, walks over, and picks up the remote. As she changes the channel, she asks, me "Were you watching this?"

      My answer?

     "Not anymore."

     That's the price I pay for hot coffee in the morning, hot meals three times a day, and the occasional something hot at night. (And I'm not talking about cocoa.)

     I look at my wife. She looks happy watching her reruns of NCIS. I think she has a crush on Mark Harmon.

     Oh, well... as long as it makes her happy.

 

"A happy wife is a happy life."

 

 

Raising My Father

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