A while back The Mister mentioned it might be getting time for his “all-over bath.” I looked up startled and asked, “Has it been six months already?” Whereupon he gave me the cold fish stare and wandered off the bathroom.
As he was completing his ablutions and drying off his feet, he remarked, apropos of nothing, “Missus, I think I’ll take the afternoon off and cut my toenails.”
“Oh?” I asked, squinting in the mirror at the lovely imprint crows have left in the corner of my eyes, “And why is that, pray?”
“Well,” he worked the towel between his toes, “earlier this morning, I caught a squirrel.”
I took a moment to absorb that, then turned to him and said, “Y’know Pa, when I ask a question, and you think the answer will leave an image in my brain that will scar me for life, feel free not to answer.”
He thought about it a moment, then said, “Fair ’nuff,” and commenced a vigorous drying of his hair.
“Did I mention the squirrel was in a tree at the time?”
“Pa!”
“I just wanted you to get the complete picture.”
Complete…and eternal.
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