"There's another woman."

Are those the words every wife dreams of hearing one week after her twenty seventh wedding anniversary?

No, they are not.

"What?" I cleverly replied.

"I love another woman."

"Don't make me kill you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm in love with Margaret Thatcher."

"Oh!" 

He indicated our latest copy of Imprimis, laying on the kitchen table.  It's titled Margaret Thatcher: A Legacy of Freedom.  "Have you read it yet?" he said. "I highlighted my favorite parts."

I picked it up and read Lady Thatcher's list of Vigorous Virtues. "...such qualities as self-reliance, diligence, thrift, trustworthiness, and initiative that enable someone who exhibits them to live and work independently in society.  Though they are not the only virtues--compassion might be called one of the "softer virtues"-- they are essential to the success of a free economy and a civil society, both of which rely on dispersed initiative and self-reliant citizens."

"Wow."  he sighed, with a dreamy look on his face.  "I love her." Then he looked sort of sheepish.  "I was talking some trash about her the other day, wasn't I?"


"Yes, but I knew you didn't know what you were talking about." I absolved him of his ignorant transgression.

"I know she's like, eighty five years old," he said fervently "But I would leave you for her!"

"That's okay." I nodded.  "You can have Maggie and I'll take Thomas Sowell."

"WHO THE HELL IS THAT?"

What, I'm just supposed to wait around while he cavorts with the Iron Lady?  Not while there's a hot, old, brilliant economist I'd love to get my hands on!

 

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