She Really Does Know How
"Just BEEP it, Honey," is my automatic reply to the sentence that begins with, "Robert, I need your help . . . . " My Honey knows where to find the wall-mounted base unit beeper. She knows the procedure: Look at the code sheet that tells which base unit beeper button to push, pull off the base unit and walk around the house beeping until that delightful returned BEEP alerts you to turn over the newspaper because the keys are right there.
Music to my ears. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
My blood pressure drops several points — when I hear a beep.
I can continue with my writing, or with my ceramics, or with my reading, or with my whatever — when I hear a beep.
I can rest assured that I will not bump my head, strain my back, injure myself in any way when looking under the stove — when I hear a beep.
My life is different now. It is calmer. It is quieter. It is safer.
Oh, no! What? [Expletive deleted.]
The batteries are bad.
Yes, Honey, I’m coming.
Oh, well.
Tomorrow is only a beep away.
Editor’s Note: If you lose track of Mr. Ebsen and you can’t find your beeper, you may email him at Robertebsen@hotmail.com.
