Sandoval Signpost


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  My Wife and Times
Daniel Will Harris

The Sandoval Signpost (Web edition) is pleased as punch (diet punch that is) to bring you the humor and insightful human observations of Daniel Will Harris, author of My Wife and Times. —Ed].


You never know  what's going to happen

By Daniel Will Harris

"Stop looking for meaning in everything," my wife scolded me after I'd asked her what I thought was a normal question: "What did you mean by that?" This was something I asked after getting over being stunned by her earlier pronouncement out of the blue, "You never know what's going to happen."

There's no answer to that statement, other than, perhaps, "Yes," but since the statement seemed to come out of nowhere, for the previous sixty seconds I'd been trying to figure out what it meant.

It started with a kiss. I kissed her neck. Then I bit it—not hard, like a vampire, but more of a nibble while making tiger "chuffling" noises, something I occasionally like to do for reasons which now escape me (no, wait, I once saw "Roy" of "Siegfried and Roy" do this to one of his tigers who loved it, so logically I assumed my wife would, too). Though after what she just said I may never do it again.

We hadn't been talking about anything specific, other than it was late and time to go to bed. I was working at my computer, and she came up behind me and announced she was going to bed, and I replied that I would not roll my chair over her foot and cripple her.

I know I'm coming across badly in this story already, as if I'm unstable or something, but I meant what I said to her in a loving way, because she has a habit of creeping up silently behind me and then I roll my chair back and am in danger of rolling over her little cat feet. I never have, but I always fear I will, so I've told her more than once not to do that. See, I'm really very logical.

So I said that to her and she said "Thank you," and then I chuffled and she made her big pronouncement, "You never know what's going to happen."

You can tell this is all true, because not much is happening, and if you continue reading you'll see not much more happens, except that I get increasingly confused, which, if you're female, you have long suspected is the normal state of males, and if you're male, you've imagined is the state females prefer for you to be in.

My only retort to this was, "I'm going to bring a rodent in to kiss you, that's what I know is going to happen."

To anyone who doesn't know me I'm sure I just sound worse and worse, but we do, in fact, have a pet rodent, a chinchilla, and he does, in fact, like to be kissed goodnight by my wife; in fact, he specifically asks for this every night.

So I go get him from his favorite hiding place, under a log on the heating grate in the bathroom, and I bring him into the bedroom where my wife is waiting for her goodnight kiss from both of us. The chinchilla kisses her and I lean in to kiss her to, and that's when she says, "You've got to stop constantly looking for meaning in everything."

I assumed she was talking to me, since she usually doesn't speak to the chinchilla in that "helpful" tone of voice, whereby she's trying to help me be a better person by being more like her.

She launched into her impression of my inner monologue, "Why'd she say that? What did she mean by it? What did she mean last Tuesday? What is she getting at," she rattled on, as if these questions were not coming out of her mouth but floating around in my brain, which, I have to admit, they often are, though I never speak them in that rapid-fire manner (because if I did it would only make her laugh).

Her doing it made me laugh so hard I could hardly breathe. I couldn't see, either, with tears streaming down my face, though through it all I actually managed to keep the chinchilla perched on my shoulder and off the floor, where he would have taken the opportunity to get behind the headboard, possibly disappearing for days, during which time the only sign of his existence would the sound of muffled gnawing on extension cords, followed by a fire hazard of flickering lights.

"You've got to relax and give your tiny brain a rest," she added, and this time I did think she could be speaking to either myself or the rodent, since his brain is even tinier than mine.

Now that I could breathe again, I took the risk of saying something else stupid. "You're always saying I don't listen. Then when I do listen, I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. So I just wanted to know what you meant."

She shook her head and looked at the rodent as if he surely understood, then they both looked at me as if I was "slow." At least that's how I saw it.

At this point I said the only thing I could think to say, "Thank you, darling," and went to put the chinchilla to bed. I still have no idea of what my wife was trying to communicate to me, and the rodent isn't talking, either.

My Wife and Times Cover


If you would like to read more fabulous stories, you need Daniel Will Harris’s My Wife and Times. The 148 page book contains stories that are conveniently short, perfect for bedtime reading, or between airport friskings. Price: $15 postpaid and is available for purchase online at on

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