Thursday, January 10, 2008

"Ward...I'm worried about the Beaver"

Last night, I got home late from a business trip and was just too exhausted to change clothes.

Sitting around in dress slacks, a shirt, and tie, I found myself feeling, well, rather sharp.

Dignified, as it were.

The Blond had saved dinner for me. As she served the meal, I noticed that her hair looked somewhat more bouffantish than usual.

Calling to my children, I began to dispense sage, fatherly advice, chuckling condescendingly as I tousled their hair.

As the evening wore on, I realized that my every comment, whether funny or not, was accompanied by disembodied laughter. Through the haze of smoke from my pipe, I could not pin down the source.

As color began to drain from my surroundings, I decided it was time to change into jeans and a t-shirt.