The latest dance craze

American Pie and his bride have been spending the summer in their honeymoon retreat on the Rainy up by Hooterville this year.
“It has been just wonderful! Peace and quiet with just enough work, including the new garage, to keep me just busy enough,” Am enthused as he pointed out several of his latest projects and I have to admit the joint looked pretty ship-shape.
The only problem is he’s making it terribly hard on the rest of us to come up to our own spouses’ expectations on everything from landscaping to home repairs.
“Look at his place! Not a weed in sight while your tomato patch looks like a jungle,” observed my wife, the Pearl of the Orient.
“If you wouldn’t waste all your time on that stupid pontoon boat, you could have our little yard looking nearly this good, too!” she stressed.
I politely reminded her that living in this beautiful part of the world, enjoying the soul-soothing delight of cruising the Rainy, was something not to be forgone and weeds have a right to exist, as well.
“Yeah, right!” was her only disgusted response.
“Well, you know Am does tend to be a little obsessive compulsive. He cut that one piece of trim three times and it was still too short,” cut in Sweetie as Am turned to explain another of his projects.
“You know you have to do it right,” said Am. “If you don’t keep the tolerances exact, you’ll have cracks where cluster flies, lady bugs, and even mice could get in.
“I just couldn’t tolerate that,” he added as his bride shuddered in agreement.
Two days later, Am heard a commotion from the foyer and entered to find Sweetie doing what only can be described as a Texas two-step tap dance, keeping rhythm banging the broom on the floor while wailing in a country-western twang a song of which the only recognizable words were “Shoo! Shoo!”
“My honey, you never told me you could dance like that! You have a new surprise for me every day,” stammered Am, his mouth agape in wonder.
Sweetie swung around, continued her frenetic broom swinging and high-step tapping, and managed to stammer out in a shrill high C, “Mmmm . . . mouse! Mouse!”
Am refocused, grabbed the broom, and, with a couple of swats, exterminated the intruder. Sweetie collapsed into a chair.
That night in bed, in a soothing, calming voice, Am said, “Don’t panic but I think we have another mouse. It’s sitting on the top of the bed post looking at us.”
The trapline set up the next morning quickly yielded proof that “if you see one mouse, you have several more” is an adage you can depend on. Am spent two days plugging every nook and cranny.
We drove by and found them coming out the driveway.
“We’d invite you in but the exterminators are in there eliminating any residual vermin,” explained Am.
“And they are also spraying for the cluster flies. Tight construction, my foot!” added Sweetie
Am glanced at his watch and exclaimed, “Gotta go. Don’t want to be late for our dance lessons.”

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