“Did you hear about the guy who stole a calendar?”

That’s what the well-dressed octogenarian said to me and my wife as we were waiting for the sixth floor elevator. We had just been helping my parents get settled in their suite of a fancy new retirement manor. It had gone well but it had been a pretty stressful and emotional day.

Anyway, there she was, dressed elegantly in a pricey Chanel jacket, holding court by the elevator doors. She sat regally in a dark, leather, wing-back chair. Apparently waiting to converse with anyone who passed by. Although she was a tad deaf, I thought it was only courteous I should play along.

“No I didn’t hear” I replied while my wife strained not to roll her eyes.

“Eh? What’s that” the woman snapped.

My wife stepped closer to the woman and half shouted, “We haven’t heard about the guy who stole a calendar...”

“Oh, he got 12 months!”

Too Tired...?

We feigned polite laughter.

Without missing a beat, she launched (oh no) into another one: “Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up?”

My wife and I glanced at each other and shrugged.

“Because, of course, it was two tired!”

Thankfully, at that moment, the doors opened and and we had an excuse to leave. So we waved goodbye and stepped quickly into the elevator.

Author! Author!

As I was pushing buttons, my wife suddenly piped up, “You should write a joke book.”

Suddenly a copy of a well worn joke book was thrust into the opening of the elevator and we heard her enthusiastic voice exclaim:

“I have. You wanna buy a copy?”

With that the doors slid closed and we doubled over - half laughing, half crying. I could feel the stress from the day being lifted away.

Brushing away a tear, my wife sighed deeply and whispered, “I think your parents are going to like it here…”

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