Killing Rubber Trees



Ten-thirty P.M.

She says: “It’s almost bed time.”

He says:  “You go ahead.  I’ll be right there.”

She walks to his desk and looks over his shoulder.  “You’re posting?”

“Yes.  It will just take a minute.  I want to be in bed by 11:00.”

She considers his slow, precise writing style, his penchant to check every fact at least twice, and his need to research and supply the perfect link to support his presentations.

“A.M. or P.M.?” she queries.

“Very funny,” he says.

She walks away, singing, “He’s got high hopes, he’s got high, hopes, he’s got high apple pie in the sky hopes …

She washes the ice cream dishes, wipes down the kitchen, comments on a half-dozen blogs, and — finally — prepares herself for bed.  At 11:20 P.M. she returns to his desk.  “Bed time?”  She inquires.

He says: “I’ve got to finish this post.”

She kisses him good night and saunters off to bed  “Try not to spend the whole night pulling rubber tree plants,” she cautions.

*~*

A Message From the Ancients

17 thoughts on “Killing Rubber Trees

  1. My chuckle for this morning. Let’s see how OC reacts with the Glass Slippers used in your next dinner you make for him 🙂

  2. Amoeba, if it makes you feel any better I have the same process for the Prattler. Quilly wouldn’t be so smug if she had to spell-check her alphabet photo challenge.

  3. 🙂 I’ve had many a late night…or a late dinner…because “I just need to finish this…” And it seems either those times or the times you’re in a hurry are the times things seem to not work in your favor.

    I’ve told my oldest son, who watches a lot of sci-fi, that I think there is some kind of time warp thing going on in the computer chair.

  4. Thom — I think I’ll bake a meatloaf. You want an invitation to the dinner table?

    Amoeba — yes, love, but it took you until 1 a.m. to do it!

    Doug — Amoeba is my spell check!

    Barbara — I think it is the electromagnetic field surrounding the computer.

    Melli — SHE likes her sleep and seems to need a whole lot more of it than He does!

    Nessa — even the delusional ones.

    Dr. John — and some of us strive for perfect.

    Cherie — He gave himself the 30 minutes. I was just pointing out that after 3 years, I know him better than he knows himself!

    Mumma — I’d willingly stay up all night, too, but I can’t do that and still function at work.

    David — they were too small for my feet, so his were out of the question. Aside from that, I did ask him to try them on and he flatly refused. Considering how long it took me to get him to wear his sandals without socks, I didn’t even bother with a second attempt.

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