It's Saturday evening and there's nothing going on.
"You want to do something?", I ask her. She just swooshes past me, rolls up her sleeves and pitches tent at the basecamp of that Mount Everest of dishes. Ah, so that's what we are doing tonight.
I desperately look around, trying to think of something to do to avoid the, huh, dreaded invitation. I run to the guitar before she can say "can you help me?"
We have a rule around here. If I am with my guitar, I must not be disturbed. Over the years the rule has been amended to cover other situations such as when I am holding a book, a remote, a CD or even just a block of air. But the guitar comes first.
A Niagara-sized waterfall of relief crashes over me. Wife sees I am "busy" and doesn't ask me to pitch in. I am safe! I have successfully invoked Diplomatic Immunity From Housework before she called me.
Realizing my good fortune, I at once start chopping away at a messy thicket of guitar chords, when what song should occur to me but CCR's "Don't Look Now (It Ain't You or Me)".
There I was, singing "Who will work the field with his hands/Who will put his back to the plough?". And there she was, loading up the dishwasher.
I made a mental note of the irony of the situation, filed it under "to be blogged later" and buried the guilt alive.
I then switched to playing S&G's "Flowers Never Bend". And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how one continues to continue.