Don’t Ask For Help. You Might Get It.

She wailed dramatically, “I need a post!”

He walked out of the spare bedroom carrying the leg of a disassembled table and asked, “Here.  Will this do?  It’s as close as I could get on such short notice.”

She laughed and shook her head.  “I adore you,” she said.  “And someday I’m going to use a real door.”

He said, “Yes, well, before you get too carried away with that idea, you might notice that you now have your post.”

Since she’d declined the table leg and he’d already returned it to the spare room, she had no idea what he was talking about.

14 thoughts on “Don’t Ask For Help. You Might Get It.

  1. Hey Quilly…. do you want us to feel sorry for you here too? Pooor Quilly, it must be terrible to have a husband who loves you madly and who you adore equally as much. You do suffer so. :o)

    I must be off to sleep now, but look forward to returning tomorrow to read some of your word games.

  2. Mmmm… depends… did he actually disassemble the table FOR you? Or was it priorly disassembled? I just need to know exactly HOW MUCH heroics went on here…

  3. Doug — so you keep insisting.

    Melli — previously disassembled. We moved into a home with a very nice, large table and chairs in residence, so out tiny set remains in pieces.

    Bazza — probably wondered why I didn’t just take myself off to one of out two restrooms and solve that problem for myself.

  4. How fortunate he had that in his hand and how fortunate he must have felt when you started wailing for a post. Can you imagine the look on his face! Priceless

    Somehow I just know He said and She said is the two of you

  5. she clicked quickly, as by the time she usually got to the website, there was a winner. her manager not being in, she jumped at the chance for her coffee-not-ingested-yet brain to be stumped by yet another monday morning pun.

    “what’s this!?” she exclaimed, in spite of ‘exclaiming’ being her least favorite way to do anything.

    there was no pun. no picture. there was an amusing vignette. it was messing with her brain in ways the coffee could not counter. she slumped into a hideous gelatinous mould on the floor.

    she would have to find a way to get rid of mondays.

Comments are closed.