By Wayne Scheer
The first snow of winter was already melting when Frank,
in pajamas and bare feet, opened the front door to retrieve the morning
newspaper. Snug in its plastic wrapper, it rested on the walkway about
fifteen feet away. "Damn," he said, turning back inside.
"What's wrong?" Pam asked, pulling at her old
pink flannel bathrobe as the morning air chilled the overheated house.
She pushed loose strands of gray hair from her eyes.
"I forgot how wet it is out there. I need my shoes."
Frank returned from the bedroom wearing black leather loafers with his blue and white-striped pajamas and a gray sweatshirt that read, "With a Name Like Smuckers, It's Got To Be Good."
"You look quite fetching this morning," Pam said.
"That's why I'm fetching the newspaper, my dear."
She responded by locking him out as soon as he left.
When Frank rapped on the door, Pam sung: "Who's there?" She was in the kitchen pouring two cups of coffee. She added enough milk to her husband's coffee to turn it paper bag brown, stirring in half a packet of artificial sugar, and adding the remainder to hers. She placed each cup in pre-established positions on the kitchen table.
"It's cold out here. Open up," Frank shouted.
"Not until you promise never to pun this early in the morning."
"No. It's my obligation as a male to be as obnoxious as possible the morning after good sex."
"Stop shouting. We have neighbors."
"Then let me in," adding in a strained falsetto, 'Whee-oo.
Whee-ee-oop-dee-doo.'"
"You're impossible," Pam said, shaking her head and opening the door.
"But lovable." He tried grabbing her with his cold hands, but she was too fast for him.
"Pretty good moves for an old woman, huh?"
Frank smiled. "Damn good moves, old lady. Damn good."
He sat down in front of his coffee and unwrapped the newspaper, handing Pam the Metro and Living sections and taking News and Sports for himself. The other sections went directly to the recycle pile.
Pam looked across at her husband of almost thirty-seven years. "Good morning."
"Ahh," Frank sighed as he sipped his coffee and smiled at Pam.
After allowing her husband a few more sips, Pam said she needed to get her nails done at the shop in the mall. She asked if he wanted to join her.
"Let's see?" He held out his hands as if to weigh the options. "Hang around a mall or stay home and do whatever I please? Hmmm. That's a tough one."
"I'll make it worth your while."
"I've already had my way with you woman."
She rolled her eyes. "I meant we could have lunch at Mi Casa." Frank put down the papers. "Sounds good, but I'll tell you what. I'll meet you at the restaurant when you're finished. I know you'll want to do some shopping while you're there."
She smiled. "Well, maybe a little."
As Frank drank his second cup of coffee, he noted the time. "Do you realize, if we hadn't retired we'd have already battled traffic and been at work for almost two hours?"
"Traffic?" Pam asked. "What's traffic?"
