The Fall of Uncle Gary

Harmony, my lovely wife,

I'm writing this at the office to review some details in case they're needed. I'll probably just call you and fill you in on the way home. You'll understand later one way or another.

I know you're mad at me still... or again. Not sure which.

So... I'm sorry for not putting the toilet paper on the holder.

I'm sorry for eating the last brownie.

I'm sorry for wearing socks with flip flops in public.

I'm sorry for whatever other thing made you mad in the first place.

But... mostly, I'm sorry for what happened when I tried to make it up to you. I doubt you're going to like parts of this story, but here it goes...

I was going to surprise you with a lovely dinner out tonight. I even arranged to get a sitter for Mary so you wouldn't have to take care of that at the last minute. It's Betty, the neighbor lady who has watched her a couple of times. I know, she smells like Listerine and hair spray, but she's nice, and Mary doesn't seem to mind.

I made reservations for that fancy steak place you like, "The Flaming Bull." I even made sure to arrange for your favorite waiter, Marco.

I was planning to buy a nice bouquet of flowers, but when I found out how expensive they are now, I wimped out and picked some from the planter in front of my office.

Don't tell my boss. Larry's a nice guy, but there's more to this story involving him, so just stay away from him for now.

Please.

Anyway, if I leave the flowers here at my office after getting freaked out about everything that happened, I'll need to apologize for that too.

Sorry.

Again.

I called Ferdinand's, your favorite karaoke place. Sure enough, they're doing singing tonight, no reservations necessary. This was going to be a night to remember.

So far, so good, right? "Husband of the Year" kind of good even!

Then, I wanted to make sure you were going to be ready for this wonderful evening I had planned, so I called you from my office.

Mary answered.

I said, "Hi, sweetie, is your mother home?"

Imagine my surprise when she said, "Yes, but she's in your bedroom doing exercises with Uncle Gary."

I said, "You don't have an Uncle Gary."

She said, "Yes, he's in the bedroom with Mommy."

I told her, "Put the phone down, open the door, and yell, 'Daddy's home.' Then, come back and tell me what happened."

She said, "Okay, Daddy. Be right back."

When she came back, she said, "Mommy ran around and tripped trying to get her jeans on. She fell and hit her head on the dresser. She isn't moving."

I yelled, "Oh, my God. What about Uncle Gary?"

She said, "He jumped out the window into the swimming pool, but he forgot you emptied it last week. He's not moving either."

I said, "Wait a minute. We don't have a pool. Is this Mary?"

She said, "No, it's Annabel."

Remember how I said this would circle back to my boss, Larry? I told HIS daughter, Annabel, to hang up and call 911.

I don't think I'll be in trouble with the law since I didn't technically do anything wrong, but if Larry finds out I tapped his number on my phone instead of yours by mistake, thereby dilling this whole pickle, he may not be too happy.

Then again, maybe he'll be relieved to find out about "Uncle Gary" sooner than later.

I'm writing this at the office, waiting to see if I'm going to lose my job.

Or get a promotion.

Talk with you soon,

Your loving husband,

Terry