At a retirement party in Arizona, three nurses were discussing romance.
“My first husband was a surgeon,” said Maggie. “He thought every argument ended when he announced his final diagnosis.”
“Mine was an accountant,” said Rose. “He once described our anniversary dinner as an unnecessary expense.”
Barbara smiled. “Well, I’ve just married a retired firefighter.”
The other two leaned closer.
“Handsome?” asked Maggie.
“Very.”
“Good with his hands?” asked Rose.
“He fixed my kitchen cabinet before our second date.”
“Barbara,” Maggie said, “you’ve won the jackpot!”
“How was the honeymoon?” Rose asked.
“Wonderful—until bedtime.”
Both women put down their drinks.
“What happened?”
“He looked at me and said, ‘Honey, tonight I’m going to leave you breathless.’”
“Ooh!” said Maggie. “What did you do?”
Barbara sighed.
“Spent twenty minutes explaining that I’m retired, and if he wants a nurse on duty, he’ll have to pay the weekend rate.”
