- The Washington Times - Sunday, October 25, 2009

I came home from work the other night to find my wife huddled with our daughter on the living room couch, gazing at the far wall as if an ax murderer were standing there with a chainsaw.

“Where is it?” I said.

“On the wall,” my wife said, pointing fearfully. “Over the window.”

I turned to look at the window. “Where?” I said, frustrated.

“Closer to the corner.”

I scanned the top of the wall, focusing on the area where it meets the ceiling and the adjoining wall.

Then I saw it. I shook my head.

You see, I expected this. I had called ahead.

On the way home, I had stopped at the neighborhood supermarket to pick up a couple of things, and I called the house to find out if we needed anything else.

“You’ve got to come home right now!” my daughter cried over the phone.

“Why?” I said.

She told me, and I paused for a moment. I asked her if I had heard her correctly. She repeated the problem, and I told her I’d be home soon.

But I took my time at the supermarket as I considered my wife’s and our daughter’s dilemma.

You see, my wife is a strong, independent, self-sufficient woman.

She gets up every morning at 4 to work out at the gym. Then she goes to work for 10 hours a day, comes home and cooks dinner. Sometimes she does the laundry, cleans the kitchen, even mows the lawn.

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