Our household is all a-twitter. The Lubricator has decided to run for a seat on the Town Council. People are actually phoning the house, encouraging him to toss his hat into the ring. Mind you, DH doesn't own many hats except for some straw Panama's and a lot of Gator baseball caps. Oh, wait! I forgot that he has a felt top hat like the Mad Hatter wore. That is the hat he should toss when he decides to offically become political.
He has asked me if I will be his campaign manager.
No way, Dear!
He then asked if I will be his treasurer.
Ha! Again, no way. It irks me to think this will cost us money.
What I did offer to do was to check his spelling and grammar in any campaign or council letters he writes and proof any correspondence or speaking notes.
I did not agree to be nice to people when they start calling here at all hours of the day and night because their cat is stuck in a tree or their water facet is dripping or a streetlight burns out. I have to answer the phone for business and I insist W4D publish his own cell phone number so I do not become his phone bitch.
Are you reading this, Mr. Man? I bet we will have to disclose our income (embarrassing since DH is an underpaid State employee) and perhaps our party affiliation. Hmmm.... maybe we have already done that since The Lubricator already sits on the Land Planning Committee/Council or whatever they call it. I hate politics. Lubie, are you sure you want to really do this thang? No matter what position you take, half the peeps in town are always going to be upset with you. The phone is already ringing off the hook. Sheesh.
I wish I had some meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Instead, I will take my dental pre-meds, four horse pill Amoxycillin and those most appreciated amnesia-inducing Xanax before I turn on the answering machine and head off to see Dr. Dick.