p23  April 25, 1941 . . . .

Monday. I now recall with nostalgia those happy days when I used to dangle from the stall bars instead fight for life in •twelve feet of water. Then at least, I knew that if I had to be carried out I would be carried out breathing. My other wife has been quite excited lately. For the past couple of months he has been racing the nails on his big toes and it seems that the left one is nearing the finish line. It is about time as not only do his socks look like discarded sleeves but the toes on his dress shoes are beginning to bulge. I stepped on a runt cow today. The concussion as it went off rocked the area.

Tuesday. My other wife was reported for "Moss on braid" today. Never really a perfect soldier he has lately let everything go. It must be Spring. Even my sane wife seems to be feeling it. Last night he failed to say goodnight to his breast plate for the first time since I can remember. The race between my other wife's toenails has drawn to a thrilling close. This evening he sat cheering loudly as the left one won. He then trimmed them to start another heat and became highly incensed when we should not shout "They're off!" Someday I am going to trim his toenails right up to his thorax.

Wednesday. Why more upperclassmen are not carried off to the happy-house is something I do not understand. Sometimes I come home from a meal and think how lucky I am to have such normal wives. And then I take a closer look and a few aspirin and go to bed. I wager psychiatrists pray that they go to West Point when they die.

Thursday. Every day I go to breakfast trying to guess what we will have to eat. And I am always right. In tactics we have been studying the .45 pistol. It has had a bad effect on my other wife. Today I caught him pointing his finger at me and saying bang. Then he leered and asked me if I didn't think I would look funny if I was missing from the eyebrows up. He should not be given ideas this way. No good can come of it.

Friday. I will just forget today. I would have done better to never have gotten up at all.

Saturday. We did have a writ in Math today. My sane wife derived the equation of the margins as he likes to be sure of everything. My other wife drew nineteen extra sheets of paper, hoping to bluff them into giving him a 2.0.

Sunday. A day of peace, rest and relaxation. Ha, Ha, Ha.

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