Years ago I had to go on a visit with a coworker.
We walked in to the very old and very well kept farmhouse. It was like walking in to the 1940’s or 1950’s. When we got to go on a tour of the house and walked in to the master bedroom it was like walking in to the 1930’s.
When we first I arrived I sat with my co-worker on the old couch. Maybe they called it a divan or sofa.
The wife sat across from us. The husband off to our right. We had to angle ourselves so we could talk with him.
He started talking.
And didn’t stop for a while.
The wife watched him and then looked at my co-worker and I, made a face I couldn’t interpret, stood up and walked out of the room.
My co-worker and I, who had worked together for some time, didn’t know what to think. But by the look we exchanged we both knew what the other was thinking: “what the hell was that all about”.
After a short absence the wife walked back in. The husband stopped talking when the wife sat down. We both looked at the wife.
She looked at us and said:
“Sometimes I just get tired of hearing his voice”.
He didn’t seem to hear, or care. She said it matter of factly. It was just a truth. No malice.
Maybe seventy years of the same voice could get a little grating.
I haven’t stopped chuckling about that one since it happened.
Long marriage humor.