Mildred stormed out of the toilet, profoundly traumatized. “Bob, I simply noticed myself bare within the mirror,” she wailed. “I look completely dreadful. Fast, give me a praise to carry my spirits!”
Bob seemed up from his crossword puzzle and seamlessly replied, “Properly, your eyesight continues to be 20/20.”
Mildred gasped, her eyes narrowing. “After 42 years of marriage, that is the thanks I get?! I bore your kids! I made you soup while you had been sick!”
“It was canned soup, Mildred,” Bob famous calmly.
“I heated it!” she snapped. “So, are you going to present me an actual praise or not?”
Bob smiled easily. “In fact, darling…”
She paused, instantly hopeful.
“Not less than the mirror survived.”
