Beautiful morning -- cool, sunny, with a slight breeze. The DogSurg and I got to go for a long hike in the hills this morning, helping both of us feel not-so-aggravated this morning. I have the next week off, and for the first time in memory, I am not leaving a slew of very sick patients in the hospital while I am heading out of town.
So, how does this morning turn to absolute crapola? I hear the words that strike fear into the hearts of married men; the words that would make single men (sorry guys, but you don't know how tough marriage can be until you've been there for 17 years) lose all sphincter control on the spot; the words that SWIMBO intoned this morning the moment I returned from my refreshing hike:
"There's a house that just came on the market I want to look at."Gee, that sounds so simple. Why, then, did that little phrase give me chest pain?
"But SWIMBO, what about the idea of paying off our house and maybe retiring before the nest of hair now sprouting in my ears becomes as thick as the Forbidden Forest?"
Fortunately, the above question was asked only between said ears. Meekly, I called the Realtor -- "Hi, I'd like the privilege of giving you all of my savings. Can we arrange a showing?"
You see, I understand the pecking order in my house.....and I'm only one rung above poor DogSurg. And we both know enough to do as we're told!