Swallowing pride or eating crow are both bitter pills to swallow (standard:humor, 906 words)
Author: Godspenman	Added: Jun 15 2014	Views/Reads: 2143/1499	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Swallowing pride or eating crow is not my idea of a delightful repast but it can be the beginning of something good.

I have noticed lately that I have been getting in trouble with the
Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, at least more than normal. I am at 
the stage of life where this kind of thing needs to be brought to a 
bare minimum. 

At the end of each month my wife will quiz me as to if I have paid all
of the bills. In my rhetorical answer is always, “I sure did, my lady.” 
Then I will bow before her. For some reason she does not get the humor 
of that. 

My job is to pay the bills and her job is to make sure the end of the
month I have paid the bills. This has been our relationship for longer 
than I can recall. 

Every once in a while I get in a little tickle mode and dramatically
declare that I forgot to pay the bills for the month. “Oh my, what will 
we do?” 

The first time I did that, she threw a smile in my direction. I
dramatically would catch it and put it in my pocket. 

I notice she has not been throwing smiles at me lately. Honestly, who
can blame her? 

It was towards the middle of the month when the cable went dead. We had
no telephone, TV or Internet service. The first thing my wife said was, 
“You did pay the Comcast bill, didn't you?” 

I put on my regular show and assured her that I did. 

We had to call the Comcast Company, but as it stood, we had no telephone
service. Fortunately, my wife had her cell phone and called the Comcast 
Company to see what the problem was, maybe the service had gone out in 
our neighborhood. 

One thing about my wife getting on the telephone for such a thing as
finding out why we had no service is that she does not have patience. 
She hates being put on hold. I hate her being put on hold because she 
usually takes out her frustration on me. 

Now, what do I have to do with that? After all, I did pay the bill. In
fact, I went to the checkbook and showed her the number of the check 
and the amount of the check. “There,” I said most adamantly, “I paid 
the bill.” 

After about 45 minutes of waiting rather impatiently, my wife finally
connected with the service representative who was able to help her. I 
did not hear the conversation, but I knew it must have been quite 
serious because I could see in her face that she was getting angrier by 
the minute. 

“We paid our bill on time,” she protested in a very stern manner. “My
husband has the check number to prove that he wrote the check out.” 

I was sitting in my easy chair going through my briefcase enjoying the
drama that was unfolding before me. I love it when somebody is in 
trouble and that somebody is not me. I must confess it does not happen 
that often, but when it does happen, I take full advantage of it. I was 
gloating just a little bit and feeling pretty good about myself. 

I had my briefcase and was sorting out some papers and getting ready for
the next day when I ran across a bunch of envelopes. I looked at them, 
then looked over at my wife, and then looked back at the pile of 
envelopes and all of the color drained from my face. I could not 
believe what I found in my briefcase. 

There in a neat bundle where all of the bills I had written out for the
previous month. The checks had been written, signed and placed in the 
proper envelope with a postage stamp on it. All of the bills for the 
month were there staring at me with such vicious eyes as I have never 
seen before. 

What will I do now? 

I knew I had to face the music and it was not a song I enjoyed. I picked


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