"Getting in Trouble (short story)
It isn’t being left home alone I mind. I was on my own for a long time in my life before I met my wife. What I mind is that she treats me like a child and hides the car keys on me when she goes out. Like a blue-footed booby, I’m grounded. And neither one of us is extinct—yet! Plus, there are no Rice Krispies--what I always have for lunch. Decaf for breakfast. I don’t go for all that have a big breakfast stuff. I’m six feet tall and I weigh 130. Every year I lose a little weight. Anyway, Ellen, my wife, is here in the morning if I need any help with anything, but she goes off to do her volunteer work at eleven at the museum or the damn church. She takes the bus. She cares more about those people than she does about me. That’s obvious. The nurse comes by in the afternoon. Really I’m just alone for a couple of hours and the fact is, I don’t go anywhere. I stick around the house, maybe work in the yard, rake or weed the garden. The paper boy, nice kid, always says hello, delivers the