The Vows

“It’s broken,” Sheila said, fumbling with the switch.

“What do you mean it’s broken?” Tom asked, spreading cream cheese on his bagel.  “It’s brand new.”

“It. Doesn’t. Work.”  She pressed ‘puree’.  The blender clicked and clacked before shutting off.  The smell of burning rubber filled the room.

“Go return it.”

“Do you still have the receipt?”

“No . . . why would I?”

“I gave it to you to enter into the checkbook, remember?”

“Well, fine!  I’ll just keep track of everything around here.”

“You should!  You said you would!”

“When did I say that?”

“Geez, I don’t know?  Maybe at the altar?  When you promised to ‘keep your socks off the floor, mow the lawn, and keep track of everything’?”

“Yeah, well, that’s a lot coming from the woman who promised to ‘vacuum, empty the kitty litter, and make breakfast’,” Tom replied, motioning with his head at the bagel he was preparing.

Reality smacked Sheila in the face and she took a moment to absorb the conversation.  “Wow, this is really serious.”

“I know,” he replied, hanging his head low.  “I can move out tomorrow.”

“No, it should be me!  I haven’t emptied the kitty litter yet!  That’s two parts I broke!” She rushed into Tom’s arms.

“We don’t even have a cat!” Tom wailed, hugging her tight.

“I know! We’ll go to counseling!” Sheila found the yellow pages and turned the pages.

“You don’t think it’s too late?  We broke our sacred wedding vows. Promises we made to each other.”

“True.  But, we did say “For better or for worse” and “Till death do us part”.

“Loophole! High-five!” Tom held his hand up. 

Sheila stood still, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I once promised myself I wouldn’t marry someone who gives high-fives . . .”