Pity Mr. P, who had to drag his disemployed wife out of bed at 7:30am this morning in order to save her from her increasingly indolent behavior.
Initially, she was outraged. She burrowed her head under the covers, snarling her preference to be allowed to sleep in.”I’ve got no reason to get up!” she moaned, fighting off his attempts to extricate her from her cocoon of sheets and comforters. “I’m disemployed! What do I have to get up for?”
“To live life!” he breathed, distracting her with gentle cheek kisses as he prepared to rip the bedding off of the lower half of her body. “To learn painting, or sculpture, or the harmonica!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded, rearing up in a fit of pique. “Go to work! Leave me alone!” They struggled with the comforter for an interval, then she sighed and ceded control to Mr. P, who promptly exposed her supine body to the chilly morning air.
“Fine, I’ll get up. I’m hungry. Make me some coffee and toast, okay?” she purred as she stretched and yawned like a lackadaisical house cat.
