Now the missus loves me, this I know, for I’m still living, don’t you know? However, periodically, I find myself wondering. Take, for example:
We used to ride the Harley together. There she was, perched on her passenger seat with the chromed grab bars nestled by her rump. She’d sit back, enjoying the ride, and periodically give me the “I’m alert” knee squeeze. She never quite caught on to not using her right hand to point at things on our left as she twisted her whole body around. This would usually happen while we were in a sharp curve or as I was trying to negotiate a landmine.
Of course, she would tell me later that I don’t say “please” and “thank you” enough or something about how she doesn’t like the tone of my voice.
She constantly tells me that I’m killing myself by the way I do chores around La Grimm Ranchero. “You don’t pace yourself,” she is always saying. Yet she buys 2,000-pound bags of kitty litter and half-ton bags of cat food, somehow getting them into the deepest part of the trunk of her car, and wants me to get them out.
How she doesn’t get pulled over by the Border Patrol, thinking she’s smuggling people, is beyond me. Of course, if I complain about my back, she replies, “Well, I tell you to not overdo it. But you never listen to me.”
Then there were these four ladies we met at the mock debate in Floresville. Nice ladies, all four of them Baptists, excited about Jesus. The missus and I truly enjoyed meeting them.
The six of us ate lunch together afterwards. The missus seemed refreshed by their energy and camaraderie. She even told me, “I really like these ladies. I just feel I have so much in common with them.” Then I find out later two or three of these ladies are widows. It makes a guy nervous, you know?
The other day the missus said, “You need to get more life insurance.” In the back of my mind I hear, “till death us do part” and an old hymn, “Coming Home.” What’s also scary is that it’s a good Baptist hymn.
Y’all remember to pray for me that I’ll remain faithful until the Lord takes me home, and I’ll remember to pray for you.
Warning: These musings may be serious or may be humorous. Enjoy! H.R. Grimm is a self-described lovable, prone to blunt, witty, tending toward sarcastic, saved-by-grace, constantly thinking storyteller. Grimm, a military veteran, and his wife now call La Vernia home. Email firstname.lastname@example.org.