[Setting: a small automobile in a mid-sized city in northern Florida, USA. It is early morning. She is driving today; He occupies the passenger seat. The car pulls up to a curb. He opens his door and prepares to exit; in the midst of the usual love-yous, good-byes, and have-a-good-days, He suddenly remembers a specific item about which He meant to wish Her well.]
He: You’re going to lunch with The Stepdaughter today, aren’t you?
She: Yes.
He: Oh, well, have a good lunch then!
She: You have a good lunch, too. Did you bring tuna today?
He: No. Chicken salad.
She: You didn’t bring some of that beautiful tuna salad you made?
He: What tuna salad? I didn’t make any tuna salad.
She: That whole bowl of it in the refrigerator—
He: That’s not tuna salad. It’s homemade dog food for The Pooch — dog food you made!
She: (laughing) Oh.
The car drives away. There is no traffic, but He remains standing there for another moment or so — standing, and collecting his wits.
The Missus has a refrigerator magnet which features a head-and-shoulders hand-tinted photo of a wealthy, hoity-toity society-matron sort of woman; the text alongside says, “‘Frugal’ is such an ugly word.” (Ha!)
