A Confession

I must admit that I love to overhear conversations. This really isn't a confession because I'm not eavesdropping. I just keep my ears open when I'm out walking around. You never know what you might hear. Recently in the grocery store I saw a guy run into an old friend. She inquired about his wife and he told her they'd gotten divorced. "I took care of everything for nine years," he said. "She didn't work and she didn't have to worry about any bills, and I just thought it wasn't too much to ask that the house not be a pigsty and she put some dinner on the table by nine o'clock." That even left me wondering what his wife did all day.

Two weeks ago our wonderful local bank was taken over by a much larger bank. I went into the bank on Friday afternoon before the switch and some guys from the new bank were behind the counter observing. My teller was frustrated because she felt like some of the other tellers were spending too much time chatting with the city folk. The great moment came when I heard one of the tellers ask the big bank guys, "Do you have any livestock?" Their reply? "We're from New Jersey. If there's room in the backyard, we put in a swingset." A wonderful rural moment.