Weaker Sister

I did it again.

“You’re going to change your clothes before you take me to the train, right?”

“Aaaa!”

David takes the train about once a quarter.  Do you think I could remember I have to drive him to the station?  DuH!

“When I get older, Laura, you’re going to have to put me in a home.”  At first that seemed random.  Then I realized the translation:  “If you keep being…  “Lucy”, someday we’re going to have to separate me from my weapon collection.”

I feel sorry for the guy:  In-between “for richer or for poorer, and “in sickness and in health,” he missed the microscopic fine print:  “Whether or not she ever makes any sense to you.”  DanG!

I swear: sometimes I’m an Idiot Savant—without the Savant.  I’m in the 12th week of a class, and just this morning I learned I’d been doing Question 20 all wrong—the entire time.  DoH!

I’m involved in a complicated bit of business that started several months ago.  Just last Sunday, a light came on.  It’s an important light.  Why, at nearly 54 years old, do I still have to be thumped?!  Dur, dee-DuR!

Ironically, there are a string of things I’m pretty sharp at.  I can write a one-minute blog.  I’ve been running a household for decades.  I can cook for a hundred.  I do my own taxes.  I’m transcribing the autobiography of a world-traveled missionary.  But I still can’t seem to remember not to put carrots in the stir fry.  Ding‑DonG!

I wouldn’t say I’m the Weakest Link.  But I’d say there are aspects that put me into the category of Weaker Sister.  I do, however, like to hope that where I’m weak, David’s strong—and vice versa.

But.  Boy howdy, do ya’ think I could, occasionally, get somebody’s name down without asking seven times?  Doofus!

Just shoot me.

Oh, wait.  David’s got all the guns.

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