A census taker stood on the entrance porch, clipboard in hand, an aged man named George. “Sir, for our official authorities data, are you married or pleased?” he requested.
George froze. His mind stalled out fully like a rusted lawnmower. “Uh… properly, I’m married, and I suppose I’m—”
Out of the blue, his spouse Martha’s voice thundered from the highest of the steps: “You higher suppose very fastidiously about the way you end that sentence, George!”
Startled by the warning, George panicked, took a slipshod step backward, misplaced his stability, and tumbled all the way in which down the entryway stairs in sluggish movement.
Sprawled flat on his again on the backside of the steps, George set free a protracted, painful groan: “…Married.”
The census taker clicked his pen and raised an eyebrow. “So, ought to I examine the field for ‘married however depressing’?”
Martha appeared on the prime of the touchdown, arms crossed tightly like a drill sergeant. “You higher write down ‘married AND blissfully pleased’—or I’ll personally guarantee he takes a visit down these stairs a second time!”
Rubbing his decrease again, George seemed up from the ground and sighed, “Simply put down married, pleased, and severely bruised.”
The census taker shook his head, jotted a last be aware on his clipboard, and quietly walked away:
“Standing: Married past restore.”
