On Strike!

"I'm not hungry, and I'm going to bed."

"What about me?"

"You could stand to lose a few pounds. Why don't you skip a meal for once in your life?"

She stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door.

The next morning, I slipped out of the house for a five mile run through the suburban streets that were my family's sanctuary. I would have much preferred to live in the city, but I had resigned myself to the daily grind of a two-hour commute to afford them the life they desired. Any second-thoughts about my plan of action disappeared as I pounded out the miles. If they weren't going to appreciate the sacrifices I made for them, they'd better get used to me for who I was. By the time I got home, the daughter had already left for school, and the wife was waiting for me in her tennis whites, looking obscenely ridiculous. "You're going to be late for work," she sputtered.

"And good morning to you, dear. It's a beautiful day outside."

"Don't get smart with me! I'm not talking to you after your little stunt last night."

"Works for me," I said with a smile as I poured myself a bowl of her Special K with skim milk. She stormed out of the kitchen, only to return a few seconds later with her shopping list.

"Are you going to work today?"

"Maybe."

"Make sure you get to the supermarket, and don't forget to clear out my mother's room."

"When will you get home?"

"I'm having lunch with the girls after I get my hair done."

Perfect. The daughter didn't get out of school until three o'clock, and the wife had never finished a ladies lunch in less than three hours. All the time I needed.

"Are you going to work today, or not?" she persisted.

"I thought you weren't talking to me."

Before she could take my head off, one of her tennis mates rang the doorbell, and she drove off in a huff.