Danced Right Away From His Problems

(I am married to a fellow Marine, a man with two left feet and no sense of rhythm. He hates to dance; probably inevitably, I am a dancin’ fool. We come to terms with this early in our relationship, or at least I think so.

It’s Friday and we are meeting at the Officer’s Club. This particular club has a DJ and dancing on Fridays. I sprained my ankle earlier this week, so I come limping into the bar on my crutches and greet my husband.)

Me: “I see the DJ is getting ready.”

Husband: *in a tragic tone of voice, glancing at my crutches* “Yes, and I was just going to ask you to dance!”

(I tried to smack him with a crutch but he was too fast for me.)