I was sitting on my front porch this last night, enjoying a glass of wine and taking in the beauty of the neighborhood. For some reason, my husband does not find this favorite past time of mine equally enjoyable. He would rather sit in the stifling -hot living room and watch the little league world series.
The french doors were opened wide because it was a warm night and many neighbors were out and about, watering lawns, walking dogs, strolling by.
Suddenly my husband decides to rip an extremely loud fart from inside the living room.
"I heard that," I said, looking around to make sure no one else did. Gross.
Then he did it again!
"The neighbors heard that one," I said, this time believing it.
"Good," he replied. "A man should be able to fart in his own house."
A light breeze picked up and I took a sip of my wine. The sun was about to disappear on the horizon and I was too content to argue.
Besides, he did have a point.
Lela (Celebrating 14 years of happy marriage next month)
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