Two elderly ladies were discussing their husbands over tea, sharing the little quirks that seemed to grow more amusing with age. As the conversation drifted from one complaint to another, one of the old ladies sighed deeply and said, “I do wish that my Elmer would stop biting his nails. He makes me terribly nervous. Every time I see him, I keep wondering if today will be the day he finally breaks the habit…”
The other old woman smiled knowingly and replied, “My Billy used to do the same thing, but I broke him of the habit.”
“How?” asked the first old lady, now genuinely curious. “I’ve been trying everything, and I’ve even consulted our family doctor, but to no avail. What in the world did you do???”
The other lady leaned in with a mischievous grin and whispered, “I *hid* his teeth!!” 🙂
Three ladies were discussing the amusing—and sometimes bewildering—travails of getting older.
One said, “Sometimes I catch myself standing in front of the refrigerator with a jar of mayonnaise in my hand, and I can’t remember whether I need to put it away or start making a sandwich. I just stand there hoping my memory catches up with me.”
The second lady chimed in, “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes I find myself on the landing of the stairs and can’t remember whether I was on my way up or on my way down. Then I have to stand there until something reminds me.”
The third one smiled confidently and responded, “Well, ladies, I’m glad I don’t have that problem.” She proudly knocked on the table, paused for a moment, and then suddenly looked toward the front of the house. “That must be the door,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll get it!”
Maria and Julia were old friends. In fact, they had been friends for many years, and both of them had been happily married to their husbands for a very long time. One afternoon, while enjoying a quiet visit together, Julia finally confessed something that had been weighing heavily on her heart. She admitted she was upset because she believed her husband no longer found her attractive.
“As I get older, he doesn’t even bother to look at me anymore,” Julia cried on her best friend Maria’s shoulder, convinced that the romance had quietly faded away with the years.
“I’m so sorry for you,” Maria said sympathetically. “As I get older, my husband tells me that I become more beautiful every single day. He never misses the chance to remind me.”
Julia looked at her for a long moment before a knowing smile slowly spread across her face.
“Of course he does,” she answered. “Your husband is an antique dealer!”
