I sleep with my gardener as well.
I hadn't really thought about it much until we moved to our present area. The new garden needed a lot of work and effort put into it to change it from wilderness to respectable. Me - I just like pottering - my wife likes 'gardening' as she puts it.
The family joke started when, early that spring, I was doing some of the heavy work Pam can't manage. It was early evening and I was on my own out the front of our plot. It's a reasonable size and I was out of earshot of the house. While I was leaning on my rake having a breather an old dear I'd never seen before stopped to talk. I should add that when I work on the garden I tend to be archetypal scruffy, more like a bum. It wasn't until afterward that I realised just how much so on this occasion.
"I'm glad to see that someone is doing something about the mess at last." She said. "It's been making the neighbourhood look down at heel."
It was then I realised that she must have taken me for the hired help, rather than the owner.
In typical fashion she ploughed on without waiting for comment - "it's so difficult to find a 'good' gardener these days!"
I grunted something to the effect that it was difficult, especially with the cost of pay that was required.
She looked at me closely: "What do you charge?" she asked.
"Five dollars an hour" I responded, off the top of my head - I didn't know the going rate!
"That's very reasonable," she said, "Do you have a card so that I might call you if I need some help?"
Now at this point my sense of humour began to get the better of me, I should just have let the matter drop.
"No," I said. " But then I doubt if you would be willing to make up the same perks of the job anyway."
"Oh I'm sure we could come to some arrangements," she said, "I mean I could supply plenty of refreshments and a midday meal as well."
"Ah yes," I said, " But I gets to sleep with the mistress of the house as well."
Okay, I know. I shouldn't have said it but she was beginning to bug me by then. She took a moment for this gem to be absorbed, me leaning on the rake, she standing with her mouth hung open. Then she decided she had heard right - spluttered something into thin air, coloured up and strode off muttering to herself.
As I turned back to the job in hand I thought smugly to myself 'that'll keep the local brigade talking for a bit.'
My other half came round the corner at the trot.
"Damn!" She said, "I wanted to catch Mrs Digby, I was told she was the person to speak to over the plans for the school extension - she's the Head of Governors you know."