Barbara fussed over her hair in front of the mirror. "You must mow the lawn at some point."
"Yes darling", her husband replied from behind the newspaper.
"The shelf needs fixing too."
"Yes darling", he said, as a page turned in the breeze.
"And for heaven's sake try not to embarrass me tonight! Every time we go out together people give me funny looks. And can you please at least try to be civil to Marcus Weatherby tonight?"
"Not a chance in hell, darling; the bastard killed me."
"You died of natural causes, you silly man. Get in the wheelbarrow."
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