Bob stood over his tee short on the 18th hole for what seemed like forever. He’d waggle, look down, look up, but never start his backswing. Finally David, his playing partner, asked, “Why on Earth are you taking so long to make this shot?”
“My wife is up there watching me from the clubhouse, and I want to make this shot a good one,” said Bob.
“Good Lord,” said David, “you haven’t got a chance of hitting her from here.”