My wife defines “spouse abuse” as those mornings she doesn’t get breakfast in bed or when she has to get up to refill her coffee after I grind the beans, brew, then bring her the first cup with the newspaper.

I wonder sometimes if I try too hard to be clever. I slipped a somewhat vague (and in my opinion rather bad) pun into a recent post thinking that someone would “groan” but apparently I’m too cryptic for my own good.

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About Marcus

Who me? Introverted, neurotic, self-absorbed, increasingly cynical observer of human nature and part time social critic in hiding. Most of my life spent avoiding growing up. The naive idealistic passions of youth have evolved into the eclectic eccentricities of adulthood. Northeast Florida small-town native, related to people I can't relate to. Simultaneously my own best friend and worst enemy. Politically and spiritually unaffiliated, my personal ideologies put me all over the map or off it completely.
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3 Responses to

  1. dearest_b says:

    Gosh, when were you ever cryptic?

  2. Was it the play on the lyric from Aqualung?

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