Goodbye, Old Sweats
Look at that beautiful garment. Those are my favorite sweatpants. They are at least a decade old. My wife is taking advantage of the fact that I have the flu and that I threw my back out today to rob me of their companionship.
Why do women do this? Is she going to throw me out when I start to tear and fray? They were just getting good and broken in!
True, in a weak moment, I conceded that maybe, because she gave me a new pair of sweatpants for Christmas, it would be a good idea to retire the tattered ones. Naturally, having a heart, I began to recant.
“Nope,” she said, curtly. “You said we could get rid of them, and you can’t take it back.”
The only warmth in my home is the heating pad under my lower back.