For the 27th time in almost as many days, I strode out of the living room, turned down the hallway and smacked right into a bookshelf. “Yeow!” I shook my arm. “I’m bleeding again. My arm is beginning to look like Swiss cheese — the black-and-blue variety.” My sympathetic wife ...

I pout when my wife treats me like I’m a 6-year-old boy. She stops me every morning when I head for the door. “That shirt’s wrinkled. How did it get so wrinkled?” I shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t touch it after I ‘hung it up’ on the floor a couple days ago.” Terry fixes me ...

A meme shows a guy looking puzzled as he hikes through the woods. The copy states: “The older I get, the more I regret all the people I’ve lost over the years. Maybe being a trail guide wasn’t such a great idea after all.” While silly, the meme hit me funny — not in a “ha-ha” ...

I wanted to drive the tractor so badly, I could taste it. “Please,” I begged Dad from the barely cushioned seat of our old Allis-Chalmers. “Dale says his dad has let him drive tractor since he was 7. Jeff plows fields. Roy said he plants the corn. I’m the ONLY 9-year-old farm kid ...

The confusion began when I was 5 and Dad grilled hot dogs. “What kind of dogs are they made from?” I asked. “Wiener dogs, of course.” Dad licked his lips. “Yum-yum.” “Marcella’s wiener dog? Did you go to Aunt Charlene’s and steal their puppy for supper?” My little ...

The boss dropped another pesky annoyance on my desk. “When you catch up with all your other tasks, you can work on this,” she chirped. “Think you can have it ready a week from Tuesday?” I suppressed a chuckle. More like a hearty guffaw. The last time I was caught up on everything, I ...