Fresh Flowers

There are women whose thoughtful husbands buy them flowers for no reason. And then there’s me. One day I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why don’t you ever bring me flowers?” I asked.
“What’s the point?” my husband said. “They die after about a week.”
“So could you,” I shot back, “but I still like having you around.”

A man in a hurry

They Do Look Alike