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TUESDAY, JULY 12, 2016
My wife was having one of her friends over for dinner. The problem is, she likes to inform me of it three minutes ahead of time; therefore, I have no time to argue, and they’re always friends from her work. So, why is that a problem? Well, her job is in psychiatric counseling, and by “friends,” I mean, “patients she feels sorry for.” One time she invited over a pyromaniac and he almost burned our house down!
The doorbell rang and I hurried to answer the door, but my wife beat me there. She opened the door and ushered our visitor in. As our guest walked from the front door to the kitchen, he looked at everything nervously, and spoke in quick, jittery bursts.
Less than a minute after we had all been seated at the dinner table, he asked to be excused. Very suspicious, I thought. He asked where the bathroom was, and then he left. When he got back, I asked to be excused, as well. On the way to the bathroom, passing a mahogany dresser, I realized my prized golden watch was missing from where I had laid it earlier.
He stole my watch! I bet he’s a kleptomaniac! I ran back into the kitchen, yanked our visitor up, and slammed him against the wall. His chair clattered noisily to floor behind him.
“Get out of my house, you thieving kleptomaniac!” I yelled, as I threw him to the floor. I was so angry that I didn’t even care if he kept my watch. Screaming, he ran out of the house.
My wife calmly walked over to our dresser, opened a drawer, pulled out a jewelry box, held up my watch, and said, “He’s obsessive compulsive, not a kleptomaniac. He just put it where it belonged, like you should have.” Then she slapped me and walked out the door after him.

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