Mostly Anecdotal

She said, “Have you heard about the Belcher Norman?”

I asked her if there was a comma after belcher.

“It’s a vacuum cleaner,” she said.

I said, “There’s a vacuum called the Belcher Norman?”

“Listen to this,” she said, “When you first turn it on, this bag-less upright burps like your Uncle Morty on Thanksgiving.”

“We don’t have an Uncle Morty,” I said.

She ignored me and continued, “The review says it’s no bargain, save your money, it says.”

“So there was a comma,” I said.

“Yes, a comma,” she said. “You don’t belch that much. Now if I’d said have you heard about the farter Norman …”

I hear a beep. Something’s battery needs recharging, but what? Is it the alarm that goes off at noon each day? The alarm is a problem I should fix, but I’d have to figure out how it works all over again. It is the type of thing that you deal with so seldom that you forget how it’s done. There are other things like that I suffer from, but it’s not noon, and so it couldn’t be the alarm and so I expand my search.

First, I look to see whether the phone is in its cradle. It is, but a visual check is not enough and I rise to examine it and then reseat it just in case. I return to my desk, but a few moments later I hear the beep again. It sounds like the beep a phone makes when its battery is low. It must be a cell phone. I look at my phone sitting on the desk next to me. It can’t be my cell phone, can it? The sound seems like it’s coming from the right, or maybe behind me. I plug my phone into a charger anyway. Moments pass and the beep returns. I’m sure now, it’s behind me, but where exactly and what. Then I remember, my iPod is in the book bag directly behind me. My analytical mind triumphs—I take it out of the bag and plug it in.

The phone rings, a ring not a beep, it’s the Power Company. “What the hell,” the man says, “are you recharging your world again.”

I assure him I’m not, “just a few small items,” I say “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Be sure to unplug them when you’re finished,” he says, “not only will it help with your power bill but we won’t have to build another coal-fired plant as soon as we would otherwise, and we know how you’re opposed to coal-fired plants.”

“How do you know I’m opposed to coal-fired plants,” I ask.

“Google,” he says.

He’s on the phone, but I’m sure I sense a conspiratorial wink at the other end of the line. I hang up. I’m pleased that the disturbing beeps have ended.

What, another beep. I look at my iPod just to make sure I didn’t dream I plugged it in, and then I yell, “Gail there is beeping in our room and I can’t find it.”

“It’s probably my phone,” she replies, “it’s in my purse.”

I turnaround, there is her purse, a few inches from my book bag. She arrives removes the phone and plugs it in to recharge. “I sure hope the Power Company guy doesn’t notice,” I say.

She looks puzzled, but she knows me well. “I hope not,” she says and leaves.

Jon was excited, sitting on the seat next to him was his copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Jon had read every Potter book, he had even memorized the last line of The Half Blood Prince, the sixth book.

His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione.

He took his book, went inside, and sat down in his favorite chair. He was ready to begin reading when Mary, his wife said, “Dinner’s on the table.” He’d waited two years for this moment, and a few minutes more or less was fine with him.

Dinner was a pizza his wife had picked up on her way home from work. Mushrooms, pineapple, Canadian bacon, and double the cheese were waiting for him when he sat down. He was hungry, and was on his second piece when his wife finished, walked over and picked up his book and started reading.

“Hey,” he said, “don’t get interested in that I’m reading it first.” Frankly, he was a little surprised she’d picked it up. She’d watched the movies and had even read the first book, but she was not what you’d call a reader.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “this won’t take long and she flipped to the last chapter and started reading.”

Jon choked on his pizza, “what the hell,” he sputtered. She didn’t answer and continued to read. “You’re reading the ending,” he said. She ignored him.

A minute later she said “huh” and set the book down. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I won’t tell you how it ends.”

“You’ve spoiled it,” he said. “You won’t enjoy it now when you read it,” he said.

“I’m not going to read it,” she said, “I just wanted to know how it ended.”

Sometimes Jon wondered how it had gone so wrong, when they were dating she said she liked to read, it was only later that he learned she meant magazines, and not the New Yorker, or the Atlantic, well you know. “Fiction is boring,” she’d said. It was a major disappointment that he couldn’t share such an important part of his life.

I’ll see you later she said, I’m going to the gym to exercise and then Susie and I are stopping by the mall I’ll be home about 10:00 will you please TiVo CSI Miami she said, I’d like to watch it when I get home. Jon promised he would, but the more he thought about it the angrier he became. The last fucking page, how could she read just the last page of a book, any book. Didn’t she know the journey is the reward?

He sat in his chair and began to read. If the wind hadn’t picked up and he’d not heard the wind chimes he probably would have failed to notice that it was time for her program.

She arrived home just after ten, and said, “I hope you remembered to record my program.” He said he had. She grabbed an iced tea, turned on the TV, and settled into her favorite chair. She found the program in the list of recorded programs, and it started to play. “What the hell, did you watch this,” she said. “It’s near the end.” She hit rewind, but it went back only a few seconds, it was then she noticed the program length was only two minutes. “You screwed this up,” she said. “I can’t even count on you to record a program for me, and I really wanted to watch it,” she said.

“It’s there,” he said. “Right, the last two minutes,” she said. “That should suit you just fine,” he said. “I figured you’d just want to know how it ended and if you watch it you will. You know what they say, “all’s well that ends well.”

I prefer to sleep through the night. I don’t always get what I want—nature calls, the phone rings, usually a wrong number, the dog barks at the cat, the cat hisses at the dog. The alarm goes off, but that’s expected even if you’d rather sleep. Thursday night was different, a new goblin deigned to spoil my sleep, a beeping sound. A sound that took some time to work out because it was dark. The power was out, so why was there beeping? It was definitely coming from inside the house.

Zeus had been doing his thing emptying the heavens in our yard, a much needed shower, and Thor was speaking in a deep rumbling voice, who knew that the Greek and Norse gods worked together. I mistook Thor’s voice for my wife’s snoring. Yes she does, my wife snores. Anyway it was the beeping not the snoring that woke me. It woke her too.

(more…)

My wife and I seldom go shopping together. My shopping trips are short, hers are long. I know what I want, she doesn’t. I buy what I need, and go home. She likes to pack a lunch and make a day of it. Hers is let’s go and look around and we may discover that there is something we need that we didn’t know we needed which is my definition of something we don’t need.

So when I needed a new computer chair I didn’t invite her to come with me. It would be a short trip, and she knew it. I was going to IKEA one of her favorite stores, and she wanted to go, but she knows shopping with me when I’m on a mission is not much fun, and so she didn’t even get out the picnic basket.

She did take out her IKEA catalog and asked if I’d like to look at the section on computer chairs before I left. It sounded like a good Idea.

“Here let me show you,” she said, and started flipping through the pages. She stopped, “look at this wouldn’t these little tables be great in the family room,” she said.

“I don’t see the computer chairs,” I said.

“Yes computer chairs,” she said and continued flipping the pages, and then stopped.

“Computer chairs?” I said.

“No, bookcases,” she replied.

“I want to see the computer chairs,” I said. I started getting that impatient feeling I get when we shop together.

“Well okay,” she said clearly disappointed that the shopping trip she’s wasn’t invited on was nearly over.

“Here they are; I like this one,” she said pointing, “and the desk that goes with it would be nice too,” she added.

“I have a desk,” I said. “It’s a table,” she said. “Same thing,” I said and gave her the look. “Enjoy your shopping,” she said, and gave me a sweet kiss goodbye.

There is more to the story than I’ve told, and so to be fair let me come clean. If the shopping trip is to a bookstore, my motto is let’s go and look around, and we may discover that there is something we need that we didn’t know we needed which is my definition of time well spent and my wife’s definition of, it figures.