Thank God I’m not a Woman

About a week ago, my wife came home from the department store with a pair of jeans that I’m sure she paid good money for.  My wife has a good job and far bid it for me to tell her what to buy or what not to buy. I found it odd though that the jeans she chose where covered with rips, tears and holes.  Like parachute pants in the eighties, this is just a trend that I suppose will fade with time.  So, I looked at the jeans, made a snide comment, put on my own levis and a shirt I’ve had since 1998 and we went to dinner.  Nothing else said, jeans looked fine on her, she was happy and that’s all that counts.

Today, while working at my home office, my wife comes to me and ask if I would accompany her to the department store.  “Oh”, I replied, “are you running short of new clothes”?  Honest to God, her response was, “no, my favorite pair of jeans has a hole in them”.  Need I repeat the fact that a week prior she bought jeans with several holes in them.  So, being the smart ass I am, I reminded her of this. Unbeknownst to me,  holes in jeans are only ok if they are put there by the manufacturer of said jeans.  The hole that my wife was concerned about was a smidge smaller than a pinhead and was situated above the right rear pocket.  My wife continued, “at least the holes in my other jeans won’t show my panties and these jeans are just falling apart”.  What could I say?  What I did say was, “sure dear let’s go”.  So, off we went to the department store, where my wife purchased the exact same pair of jeans that she earlier had complained about falling apart.  Did I say anything . . . hell no!  We came home and I went back to work.  Next week, or maybe even tomorrow, will be a new adventure and I almost want to be here to see it.