Do you know what it means to come home at night to a woman who’ll give you a little love, a little affection, a little tenderness? It means you’re in the wrong house, that’s what it means. – Henny Youngman. American comedian (d. 1998)
My wife does not play golf. Yet as a result of a string of random events, she was encouraged greatly this morning before heading to work.
About the time we had our first cup of coffee at o-dark thirty, I ventured into the garage to find a floppy hat I planned to take on our upcoming trip. I noticed that water had pooled against the garage door; had it rained last night? If the garage door was not lowered in the past and it rained sometime water pooled at the opening.
Except it had been a clear sky. Then I noticed that the washing machine drain hose – Sheri ran a load of laundry last night – was not “in” the overflow tub. Apparently a golf bag that I had left between the tub and the washing machine had fallen over from the vibration of the washing machine knocking the drain hose out of the sink.
A push broom I use for these infrequent “flooding” events was on the back patio. As I retrieved it, I noticed a bag of “trash” near the corner gate. Except it was not trash. For the past week, we have been wondering what happened, or who might have stolen a package of clothes my spouse had ordered to wear on our upcoming vacation. “Someone” had tossed the two packages over our back fence by the gate.
And that’s how golf encouraged my spouse on an early Friday morning.