Frog and Goat

Let’s just let the “lady” thing in the title slide, shall we? I realize I’m no lady, I’m his wife.*

I’m tele-working today and what that means is I got all my work done hours ago and have been sitting at my desk looking busy to no one in particular. The guilt and an occasional email keeps me in my chair.

The better-half worked from home today too and since the cupboard was bare we went to the neighborhood pizza buffet** (no, not CiCi’s–actual pizza) which in our case is about 15 minutes away. Let me tell you that place attracts old people with various physical limitations. And, it doesn’t matter how long it takes to limp, hop and crouch their way to the buffet, they are getting their $6.99 worth of pizza. The buffet line was pretty well bereft of pizza when we got there. The better-half had to wait about 5 minutes to get his first slice. At least it was very hot.

By the time we left, office workers and contractors were filling up the seats. The old farts were nursing their teas and coffees.

I asked the better-half on the ride home what’s going to be our oddity when we get old. Will we have walking problems, will I obsess about my purse, will we have to holler because we can’t hear each other? I think my problem will be pushing young whippersnappers out of my way at the pizza buffet.

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*Apologies to Lyle Lovett.
**Aside from a salad bar at the grocery store, this is the only buffet I like. Others creep me out.