I stepped from the shower this morning and felt good. After a quick shave and slap of smelly stuff I dressed quickly and walked out to the kitchen. Sweet Wife had lunch bags ready. She turned to greet me with a big smile plastered on her face. Then she began to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
She placed a hand over her mouth, and I swear, was red in the face. After a few seconds she regained her composure but continued to giggle.
"Oh, nothing. Are you ready for work?"
"Are you sure? Haven't forgotten anything, have you."
My satchel is where I'd placed it the night before and I see my carry piece and spare mags are on the counter. My boots stand in the laundry room where I'd left them and my hat and cover shirt are in place, ready. I was fairly certain I could hit the street and boogie as soon as my boots were laced and had the truck keys in hand.
Again, she doubles over in laughter. I can't help but smile, after all, I'd had a full nights sleep; the first in days and I felt good. Why in the world was she laughing at me.
Screw it, I thought, and turned and gathered my boots ready to stitch the laces. Back in the kitchen screams of laughter continued. Enough.
I walk back and stand like a chastised child and in my most sincere voice plead, "Please, Honey, why are you laughing at me?"
Between snorts, she walks over and gives me a sweet gentle kiss and said,
"Sweetheart, perhaps you should put on your pants."