Bye-Bye Newspaper

     The other morning when my husband had to get on the ladder in his robe and slippers to pull our newspaper off the neighbor’s roof for the fifth day in a row, we made the executive household decision to cease and desist our relationship with our paper carrier (who apparently wasn’t destined for a career in professional baseball).

     "Just think about how much time we’ll have in the morning together, just to chat and get to know each other  again," my husband said cheerfully after he canceled our service with the newspaper’s customer service representative (who apparently wasn’t destined for a career in customer service).

     "Okay," I said nervously. "It’s going to be a change, that’s for sure."

     The next morning, I forlornly looked out the window to our neighbor’s roof. No paper. I poured my cereal and sat across from my husband who was already busy eating his cereal.

     I glanced at my husband who shoveled bran flakes in his mouth like a bear who had been hibernating for six months and hadn’t eaten since September. Milk dribbled down his chin.

     "Do you want a bigger spoon?" I asked. "I can get you the soup ladle if you want."

     "Very funny," he replied, "Your cracking jaw joint sounds like popcorn popping at the movie theater."

     I glared at him and said, "I’m having current event withdrawal."

     "Me too," my husband answered. "We could watch the television news if you want."

     "I won’t be able to hear it over your chewing," I replied.

     "Good point," he said, "I won’t be able to hear it either over your jaw popping."

     "Touché," I said. "Do you want to talk about yesterday’s current events?"

     "Not really," he said. "Yesterday’s news is so yesterday."

     We sighed and stared at each other. "Sooooo," my husband broke the silence, "Tell me what you’ve been up to lately?"

     "Not much. How about you?" I answered.

     "The same old thing. Go to work, come home, do it all again the next day," he replied.

     "Well, this is fun," I said.

     My husband groaned and picked up the phone. "Who are you calling?" I asked.

     "I’m making an executive decision to get back together with our newspaper carrier. I made a mistake in breaking up with him so soon. I think we just need to be patient with his unpredictable arm. In five or 10 years, he should at least get the paper into the neighbor’s yard across the street, don’t you think?"

     I hugged him. "Thank you," I said in relief. "I thought I was going to have to join a 12-step program to get through this!"

     All is back to normal at our kitchen table in the morning. Unfortunately, my husband had to climb to the top of our maple tree in the front yard to get the paper this morning and was attacked by a very angry mother bird and her four babies, but it was worth it. Trust me.

 

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About Vicky DeCoster

Award-winning humor writer Vicky DeCoster is the author of "From Diapers to Dorkville," "Husbands, Hot Flashes, and All That Hullabaloo!" and "The Wacky World of Womanhood." She has been published in over 60 magazines, books, and on several web sites. Vicky lives in Nebraska with her husband and two children where she loves to laugh every day. Visit her at www.wackywomanhood.com.
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