MerrinDonahue.com

Recently, there have been some indications that my husband is reclaiming his youth.
Tonight, while I was on the phone with a sick friend, my husband was outside. Sure, this doesn’t seem like a big thing, but I was on the phone for over an hour, and he was out there the whole time. The dogs were barking like Charles Manson was invading our house. After I hung up, I went out front to check on him, thinking maybe he’d been kidnapped by the Stepford Wives that inhabit our neighborhood. Imagine my surprise when I found him playing in the sprinklers, giggling like a little girl. (Note: He claims he was setting the sprinklers. Uh uh. I don’t think so. I saw you, buddy).
I then followed him (still cackling, by the way) into the back yard, where the process was repeated. He pretended to wrestle with the hose, but I know it was really a plot to soak me (revenge will be mine). By the time we came in, he looked like a drowned rat. He had enough water dripping from him that he could have watered our whole lawn all by himself.
Not bad for a Friday night, Waterboy.