A tall white male with movie star bed-head stumbles in through swinging doors donning black rimmed glasses, a grey and darker grey striped long sleeve shirt, jeans, and khaki slippers. He has clearly had a late night, but benefited from a full night’s sleep afterward (you do the math). He eyes some donuts.
GIRL: What can I get for you?
MAN: Half dozen please.
GIRL: Ok, what would you like?
MAN: Uh… how about… well, how much are the donuts?
GIRL: The top row are $1.05, and the rest are $0.75.
MAN: I’ll take an apple fritter, and… uh… is that one filled with anything?
GIRL: The maple glazed is filled with custard.
MAN: Uh… I’m trying to think…
MAN: Six years of marriage and I don’t know my wife’s favorite donut!
GIRL (touched): Aww! Wow! What’s the occasion?
MAN: No occasion. Just picking up some donuts.
GIRL: Just because? Aww. I bet she’d like chocolate.
MAN: Right. I’ll take the chocolate glazed and the chocolate, chocolate glazed. Better give her options. Can’t go wrong with more chocolate, right?
GIRL (finishes taking the rest of the order): That will be $7.00 even [you do the math]. How’d you do that!?
MAN (tips $1): Dunno.
GIRL: Wow! Thank you so much! Have a great morning.
And the moral of the story? In North Idaho, the prices of certain types of goods are not as susceptible to inflation. And sheesh! Do no men ever try to consider their wives’ tastes or give flowers for something other than getting out of the dog house? Not to say I’m great; I was genuinely just picking up some donuts because I wanted some, and gave a thought to what Lindsey would want too. But that wondering aloud about my wife’s taste – and by mentioning that I am unfamiliar with it, even – meets surprise is just a little sad. Come on, gentlemen!