In the basement reading, Vince Tomczyk was deeply in the “zone,” yet still somehow dimly aware of footsteps from above and what sounded like furniture being moved.  No matter.  Just the sounds of everyday home life.  Moments later, though, his wife Annie came down the stairs and said, “Vincent, sweetheart, I need your help moving the bed.”  Vince then held up an index finger, the universal sign for readers that a sentence needs to be finished before any further communication.
        “I need your help,” repeated Annie.
        “Sure.  What?” said Vince, still holding his book suspended at eye level.
        “Moving the bed,” said Annie with sharply raised eyebrows and widened eyes.  “Aren’t you listening to what I’m saying?”
        “Why do you need to move the bed?”
        “I want to dust underneath it.”
        “Underneath?  You can’t even see under there.  How do you know there’s dust?”
         “Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”
         “Actually, she tried.  But I resisted all efforts.”
         The “bed” she referred to was not only the king-sized mattress and springs; there was the antique walnut headboard and frame with shelves and drawers; it probably weighed five thousand pounds.  But they did move it, and sure enough, there was dust underneath.  
        “Well, look at that,” said Vince.  “Dust.  Where did that come from?”
        Annie looked at Vince and summarily removed the dust, and they carefully moved everything back into place.  Before Vince headed to the basement and his book, his work being done, Annie said, “What book are you reading?”
        “It’s called Eighty Acres by Ronald Jager.  It’s a memoir about a family farm in Michigan during the middle of the twentieth century.  I like reading books about farm life.  It helps me better understand the local, rural environment that surrounds us.  I’m very impressed with farmers, all they need to know, their skills and all.”
        Annie held up her hand and said, “No lecture, please.  I’m too tired.”
        “No, really.  They need to be mechanics, heavy equipment operators, economists, accountants, veterinarians, naturalists, environmental managers, and savvy in business all at once.  I think most people don’t realize that.”  Annie’s response was to stare right through her husband without expression.  
        “Another good book,” Vince continued, “is Farm by Richard Rhodes.  And, of course, Old Farm by Jerry Apps.  Farmers—they’re the ones that make things happen.  Oh, and snow plow operators…and mechanics and engineers.  The rest?  Forget it.”
        “Do you think you could have been a farmer?” said Annie.
        “Nah.  Too much work.”
        “Oh, you just like to read about other people working hard.”
        “Uh…well,” Vince replied and headed toward the basement stairs.  “Let me know if you need more help.  But nothing heavy.  I think I pulled a muscle.”
        Vince thought he caught the tail end of an eye roll, but probably not.  Annie was usually not one to make gratuitous light of a work-related injury.  No need to contact the union rep.