“Willis McGinty, you haven't eaten enough of that supper to keep a bird alive!”
 
“Hmmm?”  Lost in his thoughts, McGinty was startled by the scolding voice of his wife.

“Chasing all around after that scheme of yours.  Didn't I warn you what might happen?  Now look at you!  You can't even eat.”

She scoured a pot to the accompaniment of much bumping and banging.

“You know, Charlie Thornburgh spends his days running around in his golf cart, and he's always happy.  And Clarence Brooks refinishes that old furniture.  Look at him, he's got a nice little business there!  Why do you have to...?”  Her hands moved as if she might find the missing phrase in the air around her.

McGinty was thankful she could not formulate enough of a question to require an answer.