Saturday morning I got up early, dressed quietly, made my lunch, grabbed my clubs, slipped quietly into the garage and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour. The wind was blowing 50 mph. I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad throughout the day.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. There I cuddled up to my wife’s back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”
My loving wife replied, “Can you believe my stupid husband is out golfing in that crap?”
I still don’t know to this day if she was joking, but I have stopped Saturday golf.