Loaded Question

"Are you sure garbage day is tomorrow?" He asked innocently enough as I pushed the big black receptacle past him toward the street. He was busily attempting to shoehorn camping supplies for seven into the back of a seemingly shrunken SUV. As the words left his mouth there was a jolt as the earth stopped spinning and I felt a disturbance in the time-space continuum. I stopped where I was and turned to stare at him. To the outside observer it was a silent moment except for the rustling of nylon sleeping bags being pushed against each other. But inside my head the storm of the century was raging.

Am I sure? Am I sure?! AM I SURE??!! Well, let's see, for the 307 Tuesdays that we have lived in this same house, on this same street, with this same garbage schedule, I have done a fairly perfect job getting the garbage can out on the right day all 307 times. I can see how this might cause you to doubt me. It's apparent now that I have a LOT of work to do. I am well behind in my preparations because I only have twenty-five more years to devise a strategy for dealing with what will no doubt be a monumental test of my patience. That is to say, YOUR RETIREMENT! I can hear it now. "Are you sure you know how to scramble those eggs?" "Are you sure this is the right setting on the washing machine?" "Are you sure you paid that bill on time?" "Are you sure we need to buy that much toilet paper?"

Pausing his activity, he looked at me.

I gave him my sweetest smile. "Yes, I'm sure." And away I went as the earth resumed her rotations and the crickets dared chirp again.

SHEESH!!!

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Because I love him more than I love sarcasm, which is to say--A LOT--I will try to be fair and add here that he did notice the expression on my face and had the decency to look sheepish....That's right, Mister!