You'd have to meet the guy to understand.
He's probably in his 70's; he's a World War II veteran and a good Catholic.
He calls all the ladies "Honey".
His wife is the sweetest lady you'd ever want to meet. She told me today that she's recently become a great-grandmother, and showed me pictures of the baby who was born on her birthday.
You can't help but love both of them.
But their house is saturated with cats, and the odor that cats emit. Not to mention the smell of the cigars Nick smokes. He had three in his pocket today, so he was well prepared.
Each year, Cliff sits in the car while I take our W2 forms and other essential paperwork into Nick's house. Because Cliff can't stand the cat smell, not to mention the hair on all the furniture.
Today things went as expected. Nick and I went over the forms I took in, and he said, "I think you're OK on everything."
When we were done, after making some small talk, I said, "Well then, I'd best be going; Cliff's out there waiting."
"Cliff's out there?" Nick said.
"Yes, he's reading magazines to pass the time; all this stuff bores him."
"Well I've got to go out and say hello," says Nick.
And he did; he noticed Cliff had lost some weight since the last time he saw him (which was probably three or four years ago).
Sometimes it's worth smelling cat odor and cigar smoke, you know? I rather like having somebody call me "honey", and remembering what Cliff looked like three years ago.