Songs I Never Hated - Part 17

Not A Prayer

"That's why they call it faith," the Lovely Bride was saying as I walked in the door.

"That's why I call it stupid," said my middle son.

Nothing like coming home to a conversation about religion.

"What's three times twelve?" blurted out my youngest. We all turned to look at him.

"Never mind," he said. "I remember."

"Are you serious?" asked my oldest. "That's your math homework?"

"Just a little bit of it," said the youngest, somewhat defensively.

"What else do you have to do?" I asked. "Count to fifteen without removing your socks?"

His brothers laughed. Not the Lovely Bride.

"Stop it," she warned me.

"Come on," I said. "This is advanced math?"

"It's part of a bigger problem," said the youngest.

"Oh, just like you," I said.

His brothers laughed again.

"You two are the rest of the problem," I told them.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" the middle boy asked me.

"Someone told me to go to hell today," I said. "So here I am."

"You told us he had to work longer hours at his new job," the oldest said to the Lovely Bride.

"That's what I thought," she said wistfully.

"I love you, you love me, we're a happy family," I sang.

"He's not really our father, is he?" the middle boy asked his mother.

"Oh ye of little faith," I said.

Chewing It Over

"I'm trying to get my daughter to stop chewing with her mouth open," said my new colleague. "I hate it when people do that. It's disgusting."

Sitting across the table from her at the coffee shop, I panicked. Had I kept my mouth closed while I was working on the cream cheese Danish I'd just finished? Probably not; I'd worked myself into a lather while telling her a story about large animal vets, using half the pastry as a stand in for a goat. Chewing with my mouth open might be the least of my problems.

Z. was was telling me now about the department she runs. I was thinking about the way I ate.

"Which is why I'm glad we're having this conversation," she concluded.

I forced myself back into the present and smiled weakly at her, hoping she'd give me a clue what she was talking about. She looked back quizzically.

"Right," I finally said.

"You understand my concern?" she asked.

"Sure," I said.

"So how do you think we should approach the situation?" she asked.

"Quietly and well-camouflaged," I said.

"What?"

"Sorry. That was a joke," I said.

"Oh," she said. "Like the story about the goat."

"Right," I said.

"So what do you think we should do about the situation?" she repeated.

"I think it makes sense to get together regularly and discuss it," I said in the hope of buying enough time to figure out what the situation was. "Keep an eye on things, see how they're going."

"Good," she said. "I was hoping you'd say that. Every month or so?"

I could easily die in the next month. "Sure," I said. "Do you want to meet here again?"

"No, back in the office is fine," she said.

"I'll bring doughnuts," I said.

"No, please, just coffee is fine," she said.

I knew it, I thought.

The More Things Change

Look Out Any Window

The view out my other window is better.

First Day Jitters

When I got to my new job today, my assistant was waiting for me.

"Here's your office," she said, pointing to a cube with my name on it.

"This is mine," she continued, pointing to an office door with her name on it.

"Okay," I said. "As long as I have enough floor space to spread out my files, I'll be fine."

"I'm just kidding," she said. "Your office is in here. I've set up your computer for you."

























We're going to get along just fine.

Is This How Twitter Works?

Start new job tomorrow. Have to get up early and wear suit. No bourbon tonight. What was I thinking?