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My Husband Broke His Arms....
Last year, when the
power mower was broken and wouldn't run, I kept hinting to my husband
that he ought to get it fixed, but somehow the message never sank in.
Finally I thought of a clever way to make the point.
When my husband arrived home that day, he found me seated in the tall
grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors.
He watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. He
was gone only a few moments when he came out again. He handed me a toothbrush.
When you finish cutting the grass," he said, "you might as
well sweep the sidewalk."
The doctors say he will probably live, but it will be quite a while
before the casts will come off!
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