I Know What She’s Thinking

     I was watch­ing “RV Today” the other day and they were inter­view­ing a cou­ple who bought a million-dollar, cus­tom made mansion-on-wheels. Seri­ously, the vehi­cle was so big, it had a for­mal din­ing room. As they sat in the break­fast nook, hubby extolled the virtues of see­ing the coun­try from the safety of their own home.

     “As soon as the kids get out of school every sum­mer, we take off for three months,” he explained excit­edly. “We go all around the coun­try, but we can sleep in our own beds and eat our own food. It’s great!”

     The mis­sus sat qui­etly beside him, cof­fee cup in her hand and frozen smile on her face. You could almost see the thought bal­loon over her head, say­ing, “Yeah… it’s… great… three FREAKIN months every FREAKIN sum­mer trapped in this hell-on-earth with a CON­TROL FREAK behind the wheel. I want a sum­mer where I sit by the pool doing noth­ing! I’d like to sched­ule the kids’ den­tist appoint­ments! Maybe shop for back-to-school sup­plies early! Could some­one get me a lit­tle more vodka to wash down this Prozac with?”

     At the end of the inter­view, the host turned to her expect­edly for an endorse­ment of the RV lifestyle. Her smile soft­ened just enough for her to mouth the words, “Yes, it’s really nice.”

     Trans­la­tion: “I’m smoth­er­ing him in his sleep tonight.”

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