you dumbass tone. “Who doesn’t?” “Do you ever order from Papa John’s?” he continued. “Yeah!” I said excitedly, as I saw the page of coupons in his hand, and remembered he’d said something about Customer Appreciation. “We do, sometimes!” Wave something free in front of me, and I’ll do backbends to make sure I tell you what you want to hear. He handed it to me and blah-blahed a little more. Hot dog! Coupons for free pizza! “…and we’re willing to give this to you – coupons worth two HUNDRED and twenty-five DOLLARS! – for only $19.95!” he said, aflutter with the thrill of it all. “Oh.” I said with a smile. “You’ll have to come back and talk to my husband about that!”, in my best dang, I can’t make no money decisions without the menfolk around, nuh-uh. Why, oh why, am I such a damn wimp? Why didn’t I just smile, say “No thanks!” and shut the door? Whyyyyyyy? Last week a couple of kids came by, wanting to save me from hell, and when I realized what they wanted, I suggest they come back and talk to my husband. Because he’s really the one in need of saving, I implied. They said they would, but never did. The week before, while Fred and the spud were out bike-riding after dinner, a girl came around trying to sell cookbooks or some such shit. When I suggested she come back to talk to my husband, she hit me with a free booklet and told me that my neighbors had been contributing $1 or $2 for the booklet, “to help with my school expenses.” I gave her $1, and where’d the book go? Why, in the trash, of course. She never came back to talk to Fred about the books, either. The pizza guy, though, came back. Fred dealt with him (hey, I was watching Everybody Loves Raymond) and then came into the living room. “Is there something you’d like to TELL me?” he said, tapping his foot in mock annoyance. Apparently the pizza guy had LIED, and said to Fred “Your wife says you order a LOT of pizza!” “Well, no,” Fred said. “I’ve lost 150 pounds and my wife has lost 125 pounds in the last year, so we don’t order pizza anymore. EVER.” One good lie deserves another, you know. He’s just better at telling people “no” than I am, I guess. When we were shopping for a vehicle for me (we ended up with the truck I had before I got the Jeep I have now), we visited a dealership, where the salesman was pushing hard for us to buy a Camry. “Blah-de-blah blah service!” he said cheerily. “Well, I feel like I’m being serviced alright,” Fred responded. Hee! I guess I need to just stop answering the door, lest a distant relative show up on my doorstep and ask if they can move in with us… —–]]>