Trick Questions

Well, January really started out swell.  My 401K is down, my cholesterol is up, COVID is gone crazy, and my too kind and loving wife has me on a diet. 

Any one of these could cause me grief and frustration but all of them together and I am not in the best of moods.  It has been six hours now without a Pepsi and I have a caffeine headache like no other. 

The thing about a diet is that you don’t live any longer, but it sure seems like it.  The other day she walks in and asks, “Would you like a healthy cookie?”  The synapses fire, but my brain is not working…a healthy cookie, hmmm? 

Perhaps this is one of her trick questions.  No!  I don’t want a healthy cookie.  I want a good cookie.  I want a double stuffed cookie  I want a hot-right-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookie with nuts. 

I want a sugar cookie with frosting and sprinkles so my blood sugar level spikes and my eyes roll back in my head.  But no, I do not want a healthy cookie.

I smile (always smile) “No thanks, I am trying to watch what I eat this year.”  That has been my general approach to diets; watching the food I eat…go into my mouth and around my tummy. 

And with all this bad news these days, I am stressed and when I am stressed, I eat food…with lots of sugar, fat, and salt, and usually covered with bacon drippings. 

To deal with their stress some people meditate…some people eat pork rinds dipped in ranch dressing (don’t you judge me).  I tried to meditate but usually just fall asleep in my big over-stuffed chair watching football.

Can we all just agree that we are going to die?  I don’t know lots, I am not the brightest crayon in the box (I can just see my sister-in-law saying, “Well, finally we agree on something.”) but I know that we all had a mom, we all have to pay taxes (except Bezos and Musk), and we are all going to die. 

So, eating healthy, although it sounds all good and noble, it really only delays the inevitable and makes the days seem very long.

When I get to heaven (if I get to heaven) and I find out it is all nice and pretty and there are no taxes and we can play golf any time we want and they have waiters walking around offering you a Pepsi and bacon, I am pretty
sure I am going to look at my too kind and loving wife and say, “You and your damn bran muffins I could have been here ten years ago.”

Back to the trick questions.  My too kind and loving wife asked me the other day, “You aren’t going to wear that (dockers, running shirt, and running shoes) are you?” 

First, I have been wearing my slippers and house coat to telework for two years now.  I only shower, shave, on even days and wear deodorant on odd days.  I feel like actually getting dressed was a big step for me. 

Sometimes, I actually get dressed in the dark, because frankly I don’t care what I wear.  I think her sentence is a double negative so I am confused, but why I would get all dressed, brush my teeth and head out the door just
to step back in the house and say, “You know this outfit is all wrong.  You are right perhaps I should change into something that makes me look taller and thinner.” 

But, I respond with as much pleasantness as I can, “No.  I was just seeing if my butt looks fat in these pants.” 

You know, in all my years of choosing my own clothes, Bubba has never said, “Those pants make you look sooo cute CaveGuy, where did ya get them?”

Of course, he also has never said, “Oh.  Ya goin ta the bathroom.  Wait up…I’ll go with ya.” 

That is why he is my friend; he doesn’t care what I wear, he never asks double negative questions, and he knows I don’t need company when I go the bathroom.  

See men really are much better communicators than women.  So much said with so few words. 

Once, after a particularly difficult life experience, Bubba asked me, “Ya alright?” 

I responded, “Yep.” 

He tenderly slugged me on the arm and our therapy session was over.  No prying, no asking about my feelings.  Just a follow up, “I sure am hungry how ‘bout we go to the Patio and get a mushroom burger?”

And my too kind and loving wife doesn’t stop with trick questions, she also asks questions that I am clearly not qualified to answer, have no natural talent for, and frankly don’t care even a wee bit about. 

“Do you like this blue shirt or this periwinkle one?”  First, I don’t even know what periwinkle is, where to buy one, or what it might be used for.  Secondly, I have as much fashion sense as Dennis Rodman.

So, if I seem a little depressed just know that I am hangry, caffeine deprived, pretty sure every gas bubble I have is a heart attack and will have to work to the day I die because my stock market strategy is working as well as
the supply chain.