Yes, your wife understands that -- of the pair - you are more psychologically grounded. Where you are sane enough to soothe children after midnight, the Matron generally frightens them into submission. You are able to stand before a pecan pie and not contemplate eating the entire thing, starting with the crust and working your way through to the gooey middle, letting those sugary pecans melt in your mouth slowly. Not that she's ever done this. If money feels tight, you simply spend less; if money feels tight, your wife gets a little "why the $$(% not just spend it all then" and engages in, well, Unwise Shopping. Yes, this is probably why she has six pairs of black boots.
Indeed, the Matron shall put this lament -- is it a lament? a complaint? a whine or desire? -- into even GREATER perspective, remembering the couple she met long long ago at a (your glasses haven't fallen into your coffee - you're reading this correctly) Macrobiotic Potluck Dinner. Let's just stop here and say macrobiotic potlucks are, in a sweeping generalization sort of way, truly bad ideas. Returning to said misguided social event, the Matron met a woman who was a therapist but recently gave that all up to work in commerce. The ex-therapist had been living with breast cancer for 5 years and her husband with Parkinson's disease for 10; they had two young teen children.
Ex-Therapist: "Good God. Here I am with a husband with Parkinson's, cancer myself, two terrified kids and I had to sit in that chair and listen to people complain about how their husbands chews on the side of his mouth or why the wife wasn't cleaning the stairs better. I couldn't stand it anymore."
This is the perspective into which she is putting the following piece of advice to her dear sainted husband:
When you leave the house? Lock the door. This is a reverse way of saying do not pull the door shut and shout: "LOCK THE DOOR."
When you leave the house? Lock the door. This is a reverse way of saying do not pull the door shut and shout: "LOCK THE DOOR."
Here is the Matron, in a bathrobe and clay mask, halfway downstairs to the shower when she hears "LOCK THE DOOR" floating behind her. Here is the Matron, upstairs battling clothes in Scarlett's room when she hears "LOCK THE DOOR" from below. Here is the Matron, sitting with soup and tea in the kitchen, five feet from the door after saying good-bye, watching her husband shut the door and say to her "lock the door." Here is the Matron, stirring pasta while monitoring chicken in the oven while navigating Merrick and Satan's Familiar who are wont to wrestle on the kitchen floor pre-dinner, gladiator style when she hears "lock the door!"
Why?
Who shut the door? Who is actually STANDING RIGHT AT THE DOOR and doesn't need to put down the clothes or hide the clay mask from the window (neighbors!) or walk downstairs or leave the simmering pots to move to the door and do someone else's legitimate job?
Is "FLUSH THE TOILET NEXT?"
She will soon know if he is reading this blog because she will probably be flushing the toilet.
6 comments:
How does he get back in? Ring the doorbell?
(My word verification was RANTS! How perfect!)
I'd leave it unlocked myself. But I'm passive aggressive that way...
There's something in the air--husbands just seem to be annoying today.
I successfully did not strangle my husband with the cell phone charger cord today--the charger cord that he never uses to charge his phone.
Too funny. For those of us who truly love and appreciate our spouses, and realize we aren't perfect either, it's still good to have a good rant once in a while. Mine is the whiskers in the sink. For the love of God. I know you are a fantastic husband, but please please pretty please can you just rinse the whiskers down the drain????
Hey,
Just FYI -- I'm the judge who also reads your blog -- I didn't know he was into middle school debate!! How fun! The UDL is a good program and he did a wonderful job, even though he and his partner lost the round. He spoke well and actually seemed to understand what he was saying (which isn't common for middle schoolers :).
He also kept his composure when I asked if you were a blogger... and he deserves a lot of credit for that!
First of all, who, WHO can look at a pecan pie and not contemplate snarfing it? And then not to lock a door that you are personally closing? I humbly submit that your husband has obviously been overtaken by the pod people and is not familiar with our human ways. There is simply no other explanation.
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