The Joy of Living with a SPW*
(*Self-Proclaimed Wit – aka The Wife’s Burden)
Living with a Self-Proclaimed Wit is like owning a dog that chews your favorite shoes to ribbons every third Tuesday, or with a cat that shreds your curtains. It’s a constant struggle between affection and reaching for a blunt object. Example:
Spouse says: I’m running to the store.
SPW: Okay, but wouldn’t it be faster to take the car?
*cue moderately exasperated sigh*
The SPW has no control over the impulse toward wittery. Or is that wittibility? Ensconced upon the throne of smirkiness, the SPW’s reflex action is to pun, and pun hard, much like a boxer counter-jabs. Example:
Spouse: I’m going to hop in the shower.
SPW: Much better to stand still; hopping in the shower is dangerous.
See? It’s like breathing. Normal input is received, smart-assery is expelled. Many people believe this a character flaw, or a defense mechanism, to which the SPW responds, “You mean like a gate latch?” (De-fence mechanism…Get it? A mechanism for a fence? *cue heavy sigh*)
Sometimes, on rare occasions, like three times a day, the SPW’s reflex action gets him into trouble. Example:
Spouse: I’m going to go pick up my mother.
SPW: Remember to lift with your legs.
Stay tuned for the next post, titled The Joy of Living Alone.
Texanation 