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."