(Conversation with Wifey driving home from our second Covid shot today)

ME: ... well, that wasn’t so bad. When the nurse ... was Dorothy her name? ... asked if I had any loss of taste or smell, I had to lie and say “no.”

WIFEY: Her name was Nicole, and you’ve been complaining about taste and smell loss for at least ten years now. And why did you ask her about the needles?

ME: I thought mine looked longer than some others in the tray ... is all.

WIFEY: And why did you yell “Ow” loud enough for the whole hall to hear. Do you suppose you’re being funny?

ME: No, she didn’t warn me or anything ... kinda surprised me.

WIFEY: And why are you lagging so far back of the car ahead at these stops?

ME: So’s not to tailgate. You tailgate much too close when YOU drive, you know. It’s dangerous.

WIFEY: No, I don’t. But yesterday I did give a guy the finger coming back from Target.

ME: You did WHAT!?

WIFEY: Yeah, he tried to cut me off on the ramp and then laid on his horn, so I flipped him off. Twice, in fact. When he pulled by on the freeway and gave me a dirty look, I gave him the finger again.

ME: That’s not very dignified, Dear.

WIFEY: He pissed me off.

ME: It’s not ... seemly.

WIFEY: “Seemly,” my ass.

ME: ... doesn’t sound like ... a college professor ... doesn’t sound like ... someone I’d marry.

WIFEY: Too late now, Bucko.

ME: Jeez, I may have to write up a Wifey Chronicle on that one.

WIFEY: You think those are funny too, don’t you.

ME: They amuse me sometimes, yeah.

WIFEY: You know the only thing worse than I guy who thinks he’s funny, don’t you?

ME: What?

WIFEY: A guy who thinks he’s a poet.

ME: OOOW! Was that the long needle? I’m telling Dorothy!