I recently asked a friend, “Has your son decided what he wants to be when he grows up?”
“Yes, he wants to be a garbage collector,” my friend replied.
I had to think about that one for a moment. “That’s a rather strange ambition to have for a career,” I finally managed to reply.
“Well,” said the boy’s father, “he thinks that garbage collectors only work on Tuesdays.”
Gordon, an occasional hunter, visits a gentleman’s outfitters and asks, “Do you sell camouflage jackets?”
“Yes, indeed,” replies the salesman, “unfortunately we can’t find them.”
Northern Michigan Home
My husband and I purchased an old home in Northern Michigan from two elderly sisters. Winter was fast approaching and I was concerned about the house’s lack of insulation.
“If they could live here all those years, so can we!” my husband confidently declared.
One January night the temperature plunged to below zero, and we woke up to find interior walls covered with frost. My husband called the sisters to ask how they had kept the house warm. After a rather brief conversation, he hung up.
“For the past 30 years,” he muttered, “they’ve gone to Florida for the winter.”