Sandwich Nazi

Last night I dreamed my husband quit his job to open a sandwich shop - in Chester, Pennsylvania.

"Are you making any money?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"But our roof leaks," I pleaded. "And the children! There's college!"

"Of what importance are roofs (rooves?) and college educations when one is following his passion?" My husband retorted. As if to prove his point, he executed a plateful of perfectly grilled ham and mozzerella sandwiches for a table in the back.

"But we wanted corned beef," somebody at the table whined.

"No corned beef," my husband said. He smacked a hand to the wall behind the patron. "Only ham."

*****

Oh. Were you expecting an interpretation? I have none. I can tell you if my husband quits his job before our kids are through college to open ANY kind of shop, Misery will be his permanent customer, hanging out at a table by the kitchen. Eating chips.