Commentary by Dick Wolfsie
“You’re still welcome to come along,” said Mary Ellen when she heard that Joy’s husband was not going to be there the week we planned to visit them in Florida. Say the sentence, “You’re still welcome to come along,” and try to make it sound like I was still welcome to come along.
“Well, do you want me to go with you?” I asked. My wife always tells the truth, which in this case might hurt my feelings, but at least we’d save on a plane ticket.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to join me,” she began, “but don’t you think it would be good for us to spend a little time apart?”
If I’d responded, “Yes, that’s a good idea, Mary Ellen,” she would have replied: “You’ve never mentioned this before. How long have you felt this way?”
Instead, I said: “No, I’d still like to go.” She replied, “And what are you going to do all day while Joy and I reminisce? You’re just going to be bored. I’d be okay if you visited one of your old friends without me.”
“Okay, how about my friend Alain who lives in Paris?” (Heh heh, that was a good one. I wish you could have seen the expression on her face.)
Mary Ellen said I’d have fun being a bachelor for a week. Of course, if I were really allowed to be a bachelor, I think you know the first thing I’d do. That’s right, eat my dinner over the kitchen sink.
To prepare for being home alone, Mary Ellen told me to gather all the remotes in the house and practice operating the TV. “How are you doing?” she asked. “Did you successfully change any channels?”
“No, but I opened and closed the garage door several times.”
I’m going to invite Joy’s husband here to play golf – just the two of us. I also told him he has a standing invitation for dinner.