My Wife and My Dog are Gone: The Final Chapter

Peggy's flight from London via Chicago via St. Louis arrives tonight. Going to welcome her back to the USA, the Midwest, the Capital City and Scenic Drive. Colby arrived yesterday by land. Many thanks to You-Jin. 

Time for a confession. Let's get it over with. 

 

 

When a wife is gone for ten days, even a responsible middle aged male can get restless. Not talking about the kind of restlessness that comes when he walks through the produce section at Gerbes and sees tanned suburban moms and signs like this:

 

 

Here's how I (almost) fell from grace:

I was leaving court Thursday morning.  The office is a block away. Midway in the block is the best popcorn in town, maybe in the universe, at Tolson's. 

They've told me lately to stay off the salt. I've been pretty good about this. But when your spouse is 5,000 miles away you can (as pentitent politicians say) "lose your moral compass." Well, my compass led me sixty feet to the south, across High Street. 

It was like buying a Playboy. Should I buy a pack of gum, some AAA batteries and a newspaper to make my real agenda less obvious? 

I approached timidly . . . .

. . .  and the clerk told me the popcorn machine had been out of service for two months. 

Theologians have debated this point for centuries. Did I commit the sin or not? I was ready to  proceed, but circumstances prevented me. Do I get some credit for not actually doing it?

I concluded that from a moral standpoint I was . . . 

Therefore, since the event would be forever logged as a debit on my PSC ("Private Salvation Scorecard") it made perfect sense to get some benefit in return for the time in purgatory by purchasing . . . 

a corn dog, Coke and tater tots. 

I'm glad Peggy is coming home. The temptations are getting harder to resist every day.

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People do travel blogs when they go places. 

This is my non-travel blog about Home Sweet Home.

My wife and dog are almost home. I've tried tol keep you posted.