I had waited for many years to quit work and was enjoying the second week of my retirement, much the same way as I had enjoyed the first week actually, by doing as little as possible and spending a few happy hours out in the garden relaxing in my wicker armchair.
Who wouldn’t right? We all work for most of our lives, and have looked forward to this moment for years.
So, I ignored my wife’s “not so subtle” hints about completing “certain jobs” around the house, but I didn’t realize how much this bothered her until the tumble dryer stopped working, the iron blew a fuse and the sewing machine motor burned out while she was in the middle of the seam of a dress.
The final straw came when she plugged in the vacuum cleaner and nothing happened.
She looked so stricken that I had to offer some consolation. “That’s okay, honey”, I said, “You still have me”.
She looked up at me with tears in her eyes.
“Yes”, she wailed, “but you don’t work either!”
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