« fear not, Revered Readers | Main | Mystery; irony »
February 05, 2005
I thought I married an historian
But I was wrong. I married a cop in historian's weeds. It's taken him 29 years to reveal his true self, but now I am seeing it, 24-7. He prowls the house like a detective, trying to catch me in the act of thinking, working, or exerting myself—and determined to stop me. He sits like a judge over all my activities, outlawing any that involve exertion.
And I? I discover that I don't hate all cops, after all.
Posted by senioritis at February 5, 2005 06:55 PM