The bags are packed, the booby-traps are set in the house and the wife is chopping at the bit to get going to Vegas.

Video poker machines, hanging with her high school reunion friends and shopping have been a siren’s wail calling her for weeks.

I get the real small luggage bag so it can fit inside a big, empty bag.
That becomes my one check-in luggage.

Then she can fill that big bag with goodies scarfed from sales at all the malls.

In fact, on one trip she had to buy another big bag to bring home all the stuff she bought.

I will admit I helped add to it.

When we finally get there she’ll pat me on the head and send me to the casino floor in the eternal search for riches.

Well, she would if she could.
She’s too short for that.

It’s called literary license…

She heads off and waits at the poker machine.
With me, she knows good things come to those who wait.

I’m a pretty lucky guy all things considered.
I usually win enough to pay for the trip.

Except that doesn’t happen.

Whenever my machine spits out a fairly large payoff, I walk it over and give it to her.
I try to be a good provider.

She gleefully takes it and stuffs it in her machine where she begins the slow but steady journey of losing it all.

By that time I’m back with some more payoff tickets.

Win, give, lose, repeat for 5 days.

I go home with hardly anything and she goes home with most of what she had to start with, plus the once empty big luggage bag stuffed with stuff.

Look up “good provider” in the dictionary and I suspect you’ll find a picture of me.
With money in my hand.

When we get home she’ll say, “Gimme the rest of the money to put back in the bank.”

Now I’m grumpy.

See you in a week.