"Do you think you will ever get married again?" Rosa asked me this morning as we sat on my porch drinking sodas.
"No," I said, with an air of sureness in my voice.
"Why not?" Rosa then asked inquisitively.
"I couldn't take the pressure," I said. "The pressure to be a husband; the pressure to be a mate and friend. My nerves just couldn't take it."
I had seen my ex-wife this morning, told Rosa about it, and it precipitated this conversation.
"What was your biggest gripe about being married?" Rosa asked.
"Not being able to drink when and how much I wanted," I said as I laughed.
Rosa laughed along with me, but it was the truth. I would still probably be married if I wasn't a drunken lush then.
Editor's note: Rosa watched as I typed this and read it. I think Shy_Smiley had said in a comment the other day that she wondered if Rosa ever reads my blog. She rarely does and shows little interest in my biggest hobby, computers and the internet. Rosa's only comment about this post was, "You type so fast!"