That's Life. (as Sinatra said)

Thinking back over your life can be an interesting thing to do….

or not

The Story of my Working Life.

My first job was working in an orange juice factory, but I got

canned...couldn't concentrate.

Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack, but I just couldn't

hack it, so they gave me the axe.

After that I tried to be a tailor, but I just wasn't suited for it ...

mainly because it was a so-so job.

Next I tried working in a muffler factory but that was too

exhausting.

Then I tried to be a chef -- figured it would add a little spice

to my life, but I just didn't have the thyme.

I attempted to be a deli worker, but any way I sliced it, I

couldn't cut the mustard.

My best job was being a musician, but eventually I found

I wasn't noteworthy.

I studied a long time to become a doctor, but I didn't have

any patience.

Next was a job in a shoe factory; I tried but I just didn't

fit in.

I became a professional fisherman, but discovered that

I couldn't live on my net income.

I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance

company, but the work was just too draining.

So then I got a job in a workout center, but they said I

wasn't fit for the job.

After many years of trying to find steady work I finally

got a job as a historian until I realized there was no

future in it.

My last job was working at Starbucks, but I had to quit

because it was always the same old grind.

SO I RETIRED AND I FOUND I AM PERFECT FOR

THE JOB!

A touching story of love and marriage.

A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he

suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip

cookies wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself

from the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the

bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the

stairs, gripping the railing with both hands.

With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing

into the kitchen.

Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself

already in heaven.

There spread out upon the newspapers on the kitchen table

were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies,

was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his

devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the

table.
The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a

cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly

smacked with a spatula by his wife.

"Stay out of those," she said, they're for the funeral."