In a small business office they have an answering machine that instructs callers to leave their name and address, and to spell any difficult words.
Early one Monday the secretary was reviewing the weekend messages and she heard an enthusiastic young woman recite her name and address and then confidently offer, “My difficult word is reconciliation. R-E-C-O-N-C-I-L-I-A-T-I-O-N.”
Early one morning, my husband, who works in a funeral home, woke me complaining of severe abdominal pains. We rushed to the emergency room where they gave him a series of tests to determine the source of the pain.
My husband decided not to have me call in sick for him until we knew what was wrong. When the results came back, the nurse informed us that, true to our suspicions, he was suffering from a kidney stone.
I turned to my husband and asked, “Would you like me to call the funeral home now?”
With an alarmed look, the nurse quickly said, “Ma’am, he’s not THAT sick!”
My wife has these days when she wants us to “talk about things.”
On one of these occasions we were discussing our future so I asked her, “What would you do if I die before you do?”
After some thought, she said that she’d probably look for a house-sharing situation with two or three other single or widowed women who might be a little younger than herself, since she is so active for her age.
Then she asked me, “What will you do if I die first?”
I replied, “Probably the same thing.”