Not the Jones's

“Dammit woman! I told you to buy my Root Beer yesterday!” Jimmy yelled from inside the fridge, leaning in to grab items for his lunch. He was running late for work, and the last time he showed up a few minutes late his boss made him clean the second floor urinals with a toothbrush. His blood pressure was rising.

“They are in the pantry!” called his wife, quickly coming to his rescue. “I’m sorry I forgot to put them in the fridge.”

The sight of her slight form eased some of his tension, along with the acquiring of his fizzy beverage. “Well, remember next time!”

She packed his lunch quickly and efficiently and kissed his cheek, sending him off to work. He slammed the door, making his wife wince. The baby woke then and started caterwauling.

She knew he hated working as a janitor, but without his high school diploma, he couldn’t get anything else. She diapered and cooed to their daughter, then fed her while finishing her online classwork. She’d have her degree soon, so things can get better.

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