Out Home

The Bum Husband

The Bum Husband THIS IS BEING WRITTEN ON VALENTINE'S DAY, when I often repent my flaws as a marital partner. By the time you've read it, my conscience will have scabbed over and I'll have backslid again. Anyway, I often wonder how any normal woman can stand living with a sportsman. Hunting and fishing have done little to enhance my bride's domestic career, to say nothing of her social life. I bring home some of the raunchiest bums extant-cockleburred tramps with three-day beards, mud to their eyeballs, and breaths freighted with strong drink. They disrupt the sleeping household, track up her floors, and teach her children to lie and use coarse language. By the time her son was twelve, he was already ruined for anything but flycasting, gunshooting and dog-running. She is haunted by the spectre that her three daughters may end up marrying such bums. And the way she says it, you know that she's less than half-joking. But mostly I just come home alone, and that's bad enough. My total overdue time adds up to about a third of our married life. The annual ammunition bill has often exceeded our annual 41 The Bum Husband THIS 15 BEINe WUTTEN ON UUiNTlN!'S O,U, when I often repent my fbws n a marital partner. By the time you've read it, my conscience will have scabbed over and I'll hav" back.lid again. Anyway, I often wonder how any normal wom.an un stand living with a spor~man. Hunting and fishing have done little to enhance my bride'. dom....tic ureer, to say nothing of her social lif". I bring hom" som" of th" raunchiest bums "xtant--