Lack of Communication

On a recent mad dash to the library on a Friday evening to make it by their closing time (6:00 p.m.), my dear husband, Robert was perplexed and perturbed to discover upon our arrival (5:45 p.m.) that the library was, nevertheless, CLOSED. There were two signs posted; one for the closure on Monday for Memorial Day, but the other was not easily read by me from my cool location in the car. Upon Robert's return to the car, I saw the consternation (similar to constipation) on his face as he approached the car and muttered something to me that sounded amazingly like "They're closed for Lloyd Farrell Day and Memorial Day, but they are open tomorrow, Saturday. That makes no sense to me. Why in the world....." And he was off. I tried to listen. I really did. But something kept nagging at my brain....over and over and over..."Who the heck is Lloyd Farrell and why does he get "a day"?" Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, I interrupted him and yelled, "Wait a minute! Who's Lloyd Farrell???!!!"

Utter silence and a look of complete amazement from my dear husband and then...

He burst into laughter, tears streaming from his eyes....and could barely get out the words. I kept saying, "What did you say? Who is it? What's so funny?" Finally, he took a deep breath and said "NOT Lloyd Farrell. EMPLOYEE FURLOW!" And we were both off in a fit of hysterics. Nothing like going out to dinner with the hubby on a Friday night.