Thursday, February 17, 2005

810 Don't forget your keys

Once a month my husband has lunch at the golf course club house with his watercolor buddies. Andy, his former partner in an architectural firm, has recently joined the group and stopped by here to pick him up. After they left, I took a cold remedy (had a scratchy throat) and went to bed. Several times I heard the phone ring, but decided I'd let the machine get it. I heard their voices downstairs at some point, and just rolled over and went back to sleep. After about two hours I came down and called to him in his office, assuming Andy had gone home.

After lunch the guys had decided to come back here for dessert--I'd made two sugar-free pies this week. When they got here they discovered I'd locked the door, and my husband hadn't taken his keys. He rang the doorbell several times. He looked inside the garage and saw my car. So they went to a neighbors and called (the phone I heard and didn't answer). (If my husband were younger, he would have had his cell phone with him.) Then they drove to Panera's thinking I'd gone out for coffee with a friend. Finally they drove to our daughter's office a few miles north and got her key. Upon checking to see if I was missing or dead, he found me sound asleep, so the two guys each enjoyed a piece of pie, one chocolate, one rhubarb.

Andy was really hankering for rhubarb pie, I guess, because that's a lot of trouble for a piece of pie--even mine (I make the best crust east of the Mississippi). Otherwise, he would have left off his passenger after lunch and driven away.

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