When W came home from work yesterday, I was assembling my new electric lawnmower on the front porch.
“It’s so cute!” she said.
“Really?” I said.
She knows how I feel about the word “cute.”
“Oh. Right. Handsome.”
“No,” I said.
Neckties and squared off sideburns are handsome. Me? I’m a handsome devil. But a handsome lawnmower?
“I have no clue,” she said.
Once again, my wife was flummoxed by my rules.
I looked at the sleek neon green, lawn-cutting machine.
“Your new lawnmower is sporty,” she said.
We went inside for dinner exhausted by our exchange.