Comic Belief: Home Alone

Life has different stages. Someone has said there are four stages of life: You believe in Santa Claus; you don’t believe in Santa Claus; you are Santa Claus; and you look like Santa Claus. My wife and I are at the empty-nest stage. That’s kind of in between being Santa and looking like him. It took us about 10 minutes to get used to this stage. I have raised three daughters (God doesn’t send a son to a house where there’s already a man), and survived pantyhose strangulation. I feel like the guy who went through seminary but never believed in original sin. About 20 years later he ran into one of his professors. The professor asked if he still didn’t believe in original sin. He said that after raising teenagers and pastoring a church, he not only believed in original sin, but now he also believed in demon possession.

I’m now back to living with just my wife again, and she’s gone to visit the girls. I’m home alone. I’m like most of you guys. I really out-punted my coverage when I married. Not only is my wife beautiful, she’s also organized. Everything has its place, and it better be there. She is thorough — she even proofreads a Xerox copy. That’s probably why God brought her into my life.

My life is random haphazardness. I have a photographic mind. I just lose the film. I try to get it together, but when I do I can’t remember where I put it.

In clinical terms, Penny would be a compulsive neurotic. I would be what’s clinically called sloppy. So God brought us together. Why? Because God likes to laugh, that’s why.

Now, I have to admit, Penny has gone overboard a few times. On vacation she used to want to clean up the car at every stop. I finally convinced her that’s unrealistic, and we decided to follow my plan. Enjoy the trip and hose out the car when we get there. Sometimes she cleans up things even before I’m through with them — like the time I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and she made the bed. I have to admit, however, it has helped me — at least I’m faster. I read the paper in one sitting. If I ever put it down, it’s gone.

Now I’m home alone thinking about what life would have been like if I had remained single. Before I got married, I used to look in the refrigerator and play the “Unsolved Refrigerator Mystery” game. It’s a great game. You find a friend and take 10 things out of the refrigerator and guess what’s under that green penicillin stuff, and the one who loses has to eat it.

Well, the game is over and I lost, so I’m just sitting here in my chair looking around the house. I see all the beautiful matching towels. We have regular towels that match the color scheme. Then we have guest towels that match the color scheme, but are just for guests. Then there are the touch-me-not towels that are for decoration only. And of course we have hand towels to accent the bigger towels that help bring out the appropriate color. If it were just me, I would have two towels — one wet and one dry. Alternate each day for about six months, then throw them away and get two more towels.

If I were single, I’d probably have one chair and one big TV and, of course, the remote control (appropriately named for all the dysfunctional males with MGMCTVD — Male Genetic Multi-Channel TV Disorder — who want to be remote but in control). When I look around, I see that Penny has put a lot of beauty in this place. No wonder God said it was not good for us to be alone. When God looked down, He wanted to see something worth looking at — not two towels, a chair and a TV.

I read the other day that in the U.S., single men commit 80-90 percent of all crimes. So what do we do? We send them to prison with other men. What we should do is start a dating service. Find a good woman.

Well, got to go. The phone is ringing. It’s Penny! “You’re coming tomorrow?” Man, I’ve got to get this mess cleaned up quick. Where’s that water hose?