I wrote the stuff in black. My wife Mary wrote the stuff in red.

We like to travel. I should say Mary likes to travel. I like to travel in the abstract. Say, from the comfort of my easy chair, with beers and snacks within easy reach and a nice book about someone else's travels in hand. Left hand, that is: my right is usually occupied with a beer.

Yeah, so he says. I am fairly sure his left hand is his drinking hand. And I have caught him pulling his right hand out of his waistband a few times... But I'm sure he was just scratching himself.

In any case, I often adopt the stance that actually leaving the house is an adventure. Mary has some disagreements with that.

I run my business from home, so my usual "adventures" consist of visits to the supermarket about once a week. Woo hoo.

So Mary is usually the one who'll just mention, in passing, "Hey how about a little jaunt to Italy?"

I'll growl, "I'm not feeling jaunty today."

"There are some really good airfares to Rome on the Web right now!"

"But we just got back from France!"

Five months ago.

"Can't we stay at home for a few weeks?" I'll whine. "Besides, I think my boss is beginning to suspect that my dedication to the corporate overlords isn't 100%. I have appearances to maintain, papers to shuffle, buttons to push and all that. I can't just go gallivanting around the world at the drop of a hat!"

"But we've never been to Italy," she'll counter. "It'd be fun, and there's so much to see and do. And they have many different beers that you haven't tried!"

That usually cinches the deal. She has me on the ropes and then she throws the haymaker. I'm down for the count.

Heh heh heh. Sometimes it's all too easy.

That establishes the agreement that someday we'll actually go to Italy. It's now my job to spin this out for as long as possible. But Mary is always a few steps ahead of me.

The Scene

It's a quiet evening at Chez Waring. The dog has been fed, watered, walked, has chased a ball thirty-five hundred times, and is lying at my feet, drooling and shedding simultaneously. It's been a hard day in the aerospace industry mines. I'm comfortably ensconced before my computer playing the computer game of the moment. Mary is on the other side of the office, silently surfing the Web. All is right with the world.

But I feel a disturbance in the Force.

It's signaled by a slight intake of breath from Mary's direction. I know what's coming. It's foreordained: my pleasant evening is about to be shattered, a plague will be visited upon mankind, terrible tragedies are about to unfold. Sounds impressive, doesn't it?

"Honey, I found a wonderful deal," she'll start.

I'll pretend that I haven't heard; the game sounds are too loud. Probably because I have the volume on the headphones turned up to max.

"Honey, are you listening to me?" she'll inquire.

I'm trapped. Can I get to the door in time?

I'll finally respond, "Umm, sorry dear. I was kind of concentrating on the game, I'm just about to enter the Lair of the Angry Clown Demi-God. Very exciting and dangerous."

I glance her way and realize I'm doomed. She has that 'is that game more important than me?' look on her face. I'm going to have to actually pay attention.

"Honey, I found the best deal on a Disney cruise. It's wonderful, seven days in the Eastern Caribbean. And it's the lowest price I've seen yet!"

Damn, damn, damn! I'm screwed. Fueled by fear, I cast desperately for a way out. Seven days trapped on a ship with other Disnoids. And their children. Oh God, almighty, their children! How can I get out of this? What wily stratagem can I produce that will save me?

Desperately I blurt out, "Italy! Why don't we go to Italy?!? The wonders of Rome, the romantic canals of Venice, the beauty of the Tuscan countryside! You've always wanted to go to Italy!"

"Italy? Well, I don't know," she'll respond. "It's kind of expensive. And if we go we really should take two weeks, there's so much to see. Weren't you just complaining the other day about how you were short of vacation time?"

"Yes, but it's Italy," I'll repeat. "Sunny, wonderful Italy. And I'm sure that the company won't have any problems with me only working 20 weeks a year."

At this point I'm running on fumes. I have hope that she won't be able to find any travel deals that she'll find acceptable. But it's a faint and forlorn hope. I'm up against Mary. She will find a deal. She's the Bargain Terminator. She doesn't know fear, or kindness, or pity. She'll just keep going relentlessly, on and on, till she wrings the last dime out of hapless airlines and hoteliers across the globe. I might have distracted her for a while. But she'll eventually find that bargain. It's not a matter of if, but when.

Still, I'll have some time before I have to leave my La-Z-Boy again. It's not much, but for a few short weeks I'll still have that and my beers and my books, until I have to go on the road again. It's those precious few hours I eke out that I can look forward to.

It took me less than two weeks to find a bargain airfare to Italy. We're going next May, for two weeks. Bwahahahaha!