Second Story Man

I'm married to the lovely and talented Richard, aka: Mr. Fixit, Chef Ricci, Sparky and now...Second Story Man.

Here's his photo on the side. You can see how handsome and amiable this man is! The amiable trait is is necessary part of our relationship, because no matter how diligently I try to upset his apple cart, he keeps right on course. Amazing!

My latest attempt to derange my beloved occurred this past Wednesday night. Since I was fasting for a medical procedure, my guy had thoughtfully gone out to Subway to eat a dinner sandwich. I hurriedly got myself together to run off to our local library, where I am the designated Moderator for our Book Club. We were due to discuss the lively and entertaining 'The Great Depression: America, 1929-1941' by Robert S. McElvain. (If I keep selecting such scintillating books, they may just elect a new moderator). I gathered my notes, packed the book and my notes into my purse, and left via the inside door to our garage, zipping happily into town.

Did I mention that, as seniors, we are religious about locking our doors that lead outside? One can never be too careful, you know. Before hopping into 'Maxine', my trusty old Ford Taurus SES, I checked the outside garage door, and locked it. I am nothing if not reliable!

The book of choice was the catalyst for over and hour's worth of in depth conversations about the economy, political parties, FDR, Eleanor Roosevelt, JFK, Obama, war, taxes, insurance, Social Security, and more that I needn't write about here, because this post is not about our Book Club! Did I mention that seniors can sometimes be unfocused?

Returning home, I easily let myself in via the garage door opener, double-checked to see that the outside garage door was indeed still locked (it's a senior thing, okay?), entered through the garage/laundry room door, and locked that one for the night, too. I saw that my honey's truck was back, so I knew he was home, too.

Cheerfully, I called out to Rich that I was back. He was comfortably stretched out on the sofa in the Great Room, watching TV. His first words were "Were you mad at me?".

Now, I have been married long enough to know when not to answer a question directly. Hedging, I said, cleverly, "No! Why?" (Seniors have fascinating conversations).

During the next few minutes, I learned the following facts: Subway had a good sandwich; diesel gas prices were up a bit; I had left the inside garage door locked, along with every other ground level door in the house locked up tighter that Fort Knox.

"How did you get in?"

"I climbed up to the upper deck and got in through the sliding door into our bedroom. You had the only key to the house and I didn't want to bother you at Book Club."

I looked at Rich with admiration shining in my eyes! If he had told me this 30 years ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but -- at 66 -- for him to shinny up a deck support, toss himself over the upper deck rail, and be none the worse for wear was absolutely amazing! Colossal! Stupendous!

I, of course, had not locked him out deliberately, but must have pressed the lock button inadvertently when I left the house. I think he believes me.

Now, if we remember, we are going to get some more keys made. My Second Story Man does not really need to try that again for a while.