After seven months without Bill wasting valuable fishing tackle money on a haircut, the lovely Linda looked over at her spouse and, for one of the first times in a 52-year marriage, expressed her disappointment. A short domestic struggle ensued, with me surrendering like an under-sized bluegill snagged on one of Dan Barker's slow death walleye hooks. Today I face the prospect of a coming ice fishing season with nothing but a few short gray hairs between me and a frostbitten skullcap... Anyone else faced a barber or grumpy spouse lately?
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