My client buys many rental properties, not always with the
enthusiastic support of his wife.
Recently, I was showing him a home when his wife called. I could hear her ask what he was doing. “The real estate agent and I are having an affair,” he answered.
“Oh, thank God,” she said. “I thought she was selling you another house.”
My young son declared, “When
I grow up, I’m going to marry you, Mommy.”
“You can’t marry your own mother,” said his older sister.
“Then I’ll marry you.”
“You can’t marry me either.”
He looked confused, so I explained, “You can’t marry someone in your own family.”
“You mean I have to marry a total stranger?!?!” he cried.
Feeling listless, I bought some expensive "brain-stimulating" pills at the health food store. But it wasn’t until I got home that I read the label.
"This is just rosemary extract," I complained to my husband. "I can’t believe I spent all that money for something that I have growing wild in the yard!"
"See?" he said. "You’re smarter already."
My mother, a meticulous housekeeper, often lectured my father about tracking dirt into the house. One day he came in to find her furiously scrubbing away at a spot on the floor and launching into a lecture.
"I don’t know what you’ve brought in," she said, "but I can’t seem to get this out."
He studied the situation for a moment and, without a word, moved a figurine on the window-sill where the sun was streaming in. The spot immediately disappeared.