I consider myself a good wife. A lot probably wouldn’t, old dudes especially, but I do. And I’m petty sure most days my Hubby does too. So we bump along, doing our best to be kind to each other, trying to balance our ‘stuff’ and making sure we make time for each other. Hence, another date night. Yeah, yeah wanky but true. It was our Christmas gift to each other this year.

Over dinner we ran into a couple that Hubby does some work for. He waved, their daughter popped over to our table to visit and they went back to their dinner, we went back to ours. As usual, I wanted to know who they were and why I didn’t know them. I know EVERYONE you see. Who are these strangers? I demanded. Ok, so that’s not how it went down, and no I don’t know everyone. I asked nicely and Hubby told me. About the work thing.

Then after a minute sitting quietly gazing off into space, he mentioned that the wife gives him beer while he works. It’s amazing, he said, I can barely get the gear unloaded off the ute and she has brought out a beer. Sometimes their daughter runs it out. I looked at the little girl all bouncy curls and chubby cheek smiles. Oh yeah, use the cute kid to lure my Hubby into your beer in the afternoon world and sparkly perfection, I thought. Frowning. Hmmm, up stage me will ya lady. Well, we’ll see about that!

The clouds cleared. The foggy cloud of thought and rambling conversation in my head, that is. And I looked at Hubby. He was doing it again. And no, I don’t mean the far away look of gazing off into space. That one had been momentarily retired. He was doing the uh oh, what the heck is Melissa up to now face. I looked up at him. Smiled. Then screwed up my nose, wiggled my finally growing back eyebrows suggestively and said, well isn’t that lovely, you got yourself a beer wife. Try not to get drunk and sleep with her.

Because, I am, after all, a good wife.