Thank You, Good Man, For Putting Up With Me

Poor Good Man. It’s been One of Those Days…

“Where are my keys?”

Good Man smiled, “Did you check by your computer?”

“Why would they be there?”

“You are Amanda. You put everything everywhere.”

Two minutes after I found my keys…

“Can you call my phone?”

Good Man whipped his head around, “What?”

“I put everything everywhere. I can’t find my phone.”

“Which phone? My phone or your phone?”

“Your phone.”

Good Man dialed, “Have you found your phone yet?”

“No, and now the battery is dead.”

“Oh, my wife…”

Three minutes after that…

I reached over to a piece of paper on Good Man’s side of the office. “Can I throw this away?”

“I never criticize your piece of the floor.” He sang, “Case closed!”

I spotted my black backpack on the floor and rummaged through it. “I found my phone!” I said triumphantly, holding it up.

“Where?”

“In our hiking bag.”

Good Man shook his head sadly, “You bring zombie phone that turns itself on and off hiking. You want us to die.” (He’s right. My phone is a zombie. It turns itself off and on and decides when the buttons work and don’t work. Very annoying, but we just haven’t had time to upgrade our phones.)

“‘Live together, die together,’ isn’t that what you always say?”