Funny Guy Friday... My wife is soooo nice!

    Every so often, I hear someone ask why Catholics say prayers to the Blessed Mother instead of going right to the Big Guy. The answer that I have heard that makes the most sense is that you pray for Mary to intercede on your behalf to ask Her Son to grant your prayers.  
     Let me tell you, this works. On a much smaller scale, the same sort of thing happens in our home. There have been several occasions when I have come home from work, and Cheryl greets me with the usual, How was your day?
     Then after the usual small talk, she gets around to, I got a call today from so and so and they have a problem with their son... or She has an issue with her ex-husband... or He needs some help with moving furniture.
    This, of course begs the question, Well why are they calling you? You can't help them with their son/ex-husband/furniture. I mean, it's not feeding the masses or anything, but she really can't help them.
    Well, they thought that I might be able to ask you to help them out and they didn't want to bother you, she tells me, as if it is okay that she bothers me.
     I have no problem with this whole process, and for the most part it is not a bother. But what happens once I show up to do the actual favor, does get under my skin. The folks that call my wife to ask her to ask me to help feel the need to tell me... Your wife is soooo nice! 
     Let me get this straight... she is home asleep in bed while I am doing my good deeds and you want to tell me that she is the nice one? Why don't you call her and wake her up and then we'll see how nice she is? I have been there for that, and nice is not the description that I would use. 
     I have moved furniture in several different states, conducted a two day pro bono trial for a woman she met at the bus stop, unloaded a thousand boxes of Girl Scout cookies, drafted documents, retrieved documents, and selected her friends' sons on my baseball teams despite the fact that they can't play a lick. I get the joy of telling Junior to stop making mud pies in right field, so my wife can be the nice one.
     This week, a request from a neighbor resulted in a bit of an adventure. My mission was to go to the courthouse to retrieve a document for her. Simple enough... but the only information that she had given me was a name and a date. Unfortunately, that date happened to be twenty eight years ago. No case number and no guarantee that the case was even in the county where I happened to be. It was up to Super Agent Me to fill in the blanks and deliver the goods to my wife's "client."
     I started my quest at the courthouse in the Clerk's Office, to see where they keep the really old case files. I made contact with some old friends and was sent to the basement, where I met a very nice young lady who was in her second week of work.
     She advised me that I needed a case number, and the only way to get that number was to go to Land Records. I hate Land Records----it is just very confusing. The people that go to Land Records know what to do with all those books, but I have been there once before and I have no idea.
     I relayed my prior experience in Land Records to my new friend, and she pulled me aside and whispered under her breath, They don't have any staff over there, but if you go in and act like you are confused, someone will offer to help you out.
    This will be easy, I thought. I can look confused with the best of them. A good agent, er uh, lawyer, must also be a good actor.
     I must say that I carried it off to perfection---dare I say, I looked like a complete idiot. I did such a good job that not just one person came to my aid, but two people came to my aid. Once they located the book I needed... a huge book that listed all of the cases from 1942 to 1988... my excitement began to build.
     I blew the dust off the book and began my search. I felt like Nick Cage in National Treasure. The answer was there... I could feel it.
     I found the case number and ran back to the courthouse to get the file.
     On the way there, I ran into a friend of Cheryl's, and after chatting for a few moments, I told her what I was doing and she said, Cheryl is so nice. Uh-huh.
     Anyway... I went back to the basement and met up with my new found friend. The whole time I was thinking, Where do they keep all of these files? The answer is... They don't keep files, they keep microfiche. Microfiche is cool---very spy like. I had to place the microfiche in the little machine and scan for the document that I needed. Very cool!
     As I reviewed the file, I discovered names of deceased lawyers, retired judges, and lawyers who later became judges. The whole thing was very much in keeping with the action adventure movie that I had going on in my pea brain.
     Finally, I found the specific document that I needed, and I discreetly asked my friend to make me a copy (taking care not to use my credit card, as you never know who might be trying to trace my whereabouts).
     I took my copy, and used a different route back to my car, crossing the hallways on many occasions, watching for anyone would follow me back to my office to try to steal my find.
     Once back at my office, I viewed everyone suspiciously, even my secretary, whom I have had doubts about for months. I had come this far, and I was not going to let it be spoiled by anyone.
     Later, under the cover of darkness, I was able to deliver the secret document to our neighbor, and my mission was accomplished.
     On a side note, I just got back from delivering the document and listened to a message on our phone... thanking Cheryl for the favor. She is soooo nice!
     I did not have to wait for the message to self-destruct, as I took the tape, myself, and threw it out of the window.