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Retiree needs adult supervision

I had a bad week recently.
How can a retiree have a bad week, you ask? Trust me, it happens.
Three things happened. The first occurred while grocery shopping. After we unloaded the groceries into the car, I pushed the empty cart to the nearby corral. When I was done, I tugged on the door handle of a vehicle only to discover I was one parking stall off. It was not my silver Buick. It was a charcoal gray car. The only similarity was both had four wheels.
My wife gave me that cute little wave that indicated she was over here, not there.
Uffda!
The next occurred before our afternoon walk. I had just changed sweatshirts for the walk when my wife says, “You going out like that?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Isn’t the logo supposed to be in the front?” she said.
I had it on backwards. Another Uff da!
At least I wasn’t like my friend Mike, who came into a local restaurant with his shirt inside out. Must be a guy thing.
The topper, however, involved a pair of old slippers.
My slippers, now properly broken in, sound like I’m walking on a pair of whoopee cushions. Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft. That apparently drives my wife crazy. She wanted me to throw them away and get a new pair.
I grudgingly agreed. But I would wear them until the next garbage pickup as a compromise.
That next Monday morning, I went out on my walk as usual and halfway around, I remembered I had not thrown the old slippers away as promised. When I got home, I picked them up near the back door and dumped them into the curbside garbage can.
I was getting out of the shower when I heard the garbage truck stop and empty the can. I thought my wife would be proud that I finally got rid those old slippers.
When I rounded the corner to the closet and looked for my new slippers, staring back at me were the old ones. Then it hit me. I threw away the new slippers! I had just taken them out of the box! I wore them for about five minutes that morning!
My only thought: “Did I really do that?”
If I could have kicked myself, I would have. But the way my week was going, I’d probably pull a hamstring or something.
So when my wife got home from work I said, “Want the good news first or the bad news?”
“What’d you do now?” was her reply.
“The good news is I got rid of the slippers. The bad news is I threw away the wrong ones.”
The look on her face said it all.
My wife is contemplating retirement. I think this may spur that on, because, after moments of dead silence, she finally uttered: “You need more adult supervision.”
Hard to argue that point.
Rich Glennie was the editor of The Chronicle for 23 years. He retired Aug. 1, 2014, but still plans to submit an occasional column.