Ever seen the HBO show, "Weeds"? It's not a show I can officially condone, however - that being said, it does best describe what my wife does on a nightly occasion between the hours of 5:30 PM and 7:30 PM. One car after another rolls up to our driveway, a nice young couple gets out of their Suburban (or Jeep Wrangler or Toyota Sienna or Honda Odyssey), and Elise opens up the garage door to meet them. She shows her plastic wares, smiles feintly, and then takes their cash. Cold, hard, cash. Always cash. Non-traceable, non-sequential cash. No paper trail, no names, and hardly a shake and the deal is done. Garage door goes back down, the car pulls casually away, and my wife walks back into the kitchen, to her adoring yet clueless family, and nonchalantly slaps down two green twenties on the counter.
Then she goes back to being Mom.
I'm torn and don't know what to do. I don't approve of her behavior and, frankly, I've yet to see a dime. I justify it all and try to be supportive by telling myself, "She's my little Proverbs 31 wife - in a new millenium, Craig's List kinda way."
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