Cold medicine talking

So yesterday Chad had just finished mowing the lawn and we were enjoying the late daylight hours; it was a picture of Americana. I was doing some light gardening Chad and Olivia were working on Chad's back-up plan for Olivia's future (Plan A is for her to become the first female left-handed Major League pitcher. It has already been partially spoiled by the fact that she is right-handed) which is for her to become the next Michelle Wie. I couldn't help think that we were living the American Dream, to be fulfilled, happy homeowners waving to neighbors and soaking up the last of the moderate weather.

Then I woke up this morning to a head cold and a sink full of dirty dishes because I was too busy pulling the endless weeds in our yard to wash them. I asked Chad if he couldn't possibly help me out tomorrow, which is a very busy day for me, but alas, he has a golf tournament that was far more important. That is when I thought, American Dream, my ass. Chad should be grateful for the American Justice system that would send me to jail for punching him in the face right now. How unfair is that, by the way? Punch a complete stranger, you pay $168 bucks in court costs and are on your way. Punch your spouse and it is like three months in jail plus fines. This is where having a friend in the city attorney's office is dangerous. I ask you, if you knew that all that was going to happen to you is you were going to pay $168 to punch that guy who is dividing his groceries into three separate orders and paying three separate ways in the express lane at the grocery store, tell me you wouldn't think twice. Yeah, thought so.

Golf tournament. . .