It's All About Tact

Do you ever just stop and look back at your life and wonder how you got where you are today?

I do it all the time. All the time. You see, I'm a tactful man and that's what tactful men do. They stop and think on things.

In fact, I do my best thinking out of doors, close to the mailbox, just a few feet from the door.

Out of range, if you will.

That's where I find myself today, standing out in the cold with only the mailbox for company. Mailman was here earlier, but he left pretty quick. Has mail to deliver and all that. Might've had something to do with the way dishes were being hurled out the front door...

Might've...

Once things calmed down, I started up my usual thinking and I decided that my wife is nutters. She gets worked up over the smallest of things! Take today, for instance. We were sitting at the breakfast table, happy as a couple can be. Well, she hadn't dyed her hair in a while, so I thought I'd bring up the subject in a tactful manner.

Ever so lovingly, I leaned over, just a centimeter or two from her ear, so my breath'd tickle it, like you read in the books and all that. I gave her hand a little squeeze and said, sweet as anything, “My dear, you are so many shades of gray this fine morning.”

Last thing I saw was her coffee coming straight for my face.

And now I'm thinking I might go and buy her some flowers and chocolate. Maybe take her out to dinner somewhere nice.

But first, I have to figure out how to get close enough to the door to do any of that.

Course, it's all about tact.