Archive for the ‘Marriage’ Category

The Wink

Saturday, December 23rd, 2006

She’s across the room your eyes meet, a little wave, a nod of your head—all good choices, but no you choose an innocent wink. You’re young, newly married, and still believe that she will understand that the wink was innocent. You’ll learn.

“What the hell’s going on, I saw that” she said.

“Nothing just saying hi.”

“A wink is how you say hi?”

“My hands were full.”

Oops, now you compounded your mistake, honesty is the only policy, it may seem like an innocent lie, innocent like the wink but she’s not buying.

“No they weren’t,” she said.

Come clean, do it now.

“Your right, I was just embarrassed, you thought something was wrong with an innocent wink, and so I tried to make it seem not so bad.”

Remember, there are no innocent winks.

The Lightbulb

Monday, May 23rd, 2005

The light didn’t come on. I falsely assumed the bulb had burnt out. I got another bulb; a replacement for the one I thought faulty. I removed the bulb and shook it, no telltale rattle. I replaced it anyway, setting the other aside. I didn’t put it away, I set it aside.

The new bulb didn’t work either; it had never been the problem I checked the combinations of on-off switches, both the pull down chain near the bulb, and the switch on the cord. I didn’t want to consider the possibility that it was unplugged. Who would have unplugged it and why? Another possibility occurred to me, the wall-switch the one that controls the wall plug. I switched it to the opposite position, and went through the series of switches again, two switches, both on, both off, one on one off, one off one on, four possibilities and only one solution. The initial problem was even more complicated. The wall switch, the bulb, the pull down chain, the cord switch, and the wall plug. I made some assumptions. I took a shortcut, and it paid off. Five switches, all of which had to be properly set. A combination of five things taken two at a time. Thirty-two possibilities, thirty-one lead to darkness one to light, but like I said I made some assumptions and it paid off.

The next day, the new bulb is illuminating my reading area, I’m trying to read, but my wife is chatting. She’s in the hall closet searching for paint. “I have hundreds of different colors, and never the right one” she says. I’m trying to read, and her chatter is annoying me. “Someone needs to replace the bulb in the hallway,” she says. I know she expects me to respond, but I’m reading, and I’m already annoyed. I can see the bulb I removed the day before. I’m not looking at it, but I know it’s there, not where it belongs, but near me on the shelf. It looks out of place. I left it there because I was too lazy to put it away. I know she will speak again. Can’t she see I’m reading, am I being unreasonable. There is no way to stop her so I set the book on the table and stand up. I take a step to my left retrieving the bulb from its place, I take another step and lean over the gate, the gate that keeps the dog out of the living room. “HERE,” I say, handing her the bulb. She’s surprised, she shakes it. “It’s good,” I say, offering no further explanation, hoping to cut the conversation short. “Where did you get it,” she says. She knows I didn’t get it from the closet where we keep the bulbs. Exasperated I say, “I pulled it out of my ass.” “You pulled it out of your ass” she says. “That’s right I pulled it out of my ass.” I sit back down, retrieve my book and begin to read.

Meanwhile, she has removed the cut glass shade to replace the bulb. “The shade is dirty,” she says, “look at this.” “Can’t you see I’m reading and that your talking distracts me,” I say. I immediately regret my harsh tone, but say nothing that will delay me getting back to my book. I finish the chapter. I can’t read anymore; there is tension in the air. I pick up my book and enter the room where she’s now painting. I lean over and kiss her on the cheek. She looks up, smiles and says, “hey can’t you see I’m painting.”

‘Bin’ There Done That

Wednesday, February 9th, 2005

The day started poorly.

“Did you make any coffee?” I said.

“We’re out of coffee.” she replied.

I checked the bin, she was right. I hate that, no coffee. A day with without coffee is a little like a day without clean underwear. You make it through the day, but it’s somehow not right. So I made it through the day sans coffee. I had clean underwear.” How was your day dear”, she said as I walked through the door. “Fine how was yours?” Well, I was having lunch with Carol today and she said, “I broke my ribs”

And I said, “Tell Me”

She said, “You don’t want to know.”

“Of course I want to know.”

“Well, I was shopping.”

“You broke your ribs shopping.”

“Yes, you see I was at Bed Bath and Beyond”

“Beyond what?”

“You know the store Bed Bath & Beyond.”

“Oh the one by Wal-Mart.”

“Yes, anyway I’m looking for a bedspread”

“Yes”

“And I see one in this bin.” she said

“A bin”

“Yes a giant metal bin on wheels, and in the bottom of the bin is a bedspread.”

“The bedspread is in the bin.”

“Right.”

“Well I reach over the edge of the bin trying to reach the bedspread, but I can’t reach it its a big bin. So I stretch as far as I can, I have a finger on the bedspread, and that’s when It happened.”

“When what happened?”

“I fell into the bin.”

“Did you fall all the way into the bin?”

“Not exactly”

“Huh”

“Well I was half in and half out, but mostly in. You know like a teeter-totter when the person on the other end is a little bit heavier. Well like, my heavy end was in the bin, and the bin edge was digging into my ribs, and I heard a popping sound, that’s when they broke.”

“How did you get out of the bin?”

“You don’t want to know”

“You’re right I don’t want to know. Did you go to the doctor?”

“No, there is nothing the doctor could do about broken ribs.”

“If you didn’t go to the doctor how do you know broke your ribs.”

“It’s something you just know.”

“That’s it, Carol broke her ribs falling into in bin”, I said.

“Yes, where are my lemon fruit bars”, she said.

“I wasn’t finished with the ribs”, I said

“Well I am and I want a fruit bar.”

“In the freezer, bottom bin”, I said.

“There not there you ate them”

“I didn’t eat them”

“The box is empty. I had one last night and now they’re gone.”

“Well I only ate one.”

“Just one?”

“Yes just one.”

“But there were six.”

“I didn’t eat six I ate one. Of course if you ate one last night I couldn’t have eaten more than five but I only had one so there should be four left.”

“The box is empty,” she said

“Did you look in the bin?”

“What bin?”

“The bin in the bottom of the freezer. They probably fell out.”

“I’ll check”

“Did you find them?”

“Yes, I found them.”

“Do I get an apology?”

“No, I found them in the bottom of the bin.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Well, if they had still been in the box you would have eaten them. You didn’t know they had fallen into the bin.”

“I told you to check in the bin.”

“Yes but you didn’t know they were there or you would have eaten them.”

“I see.”

Sometimes you just cut your losses. I’ve ‘bin’ there before done that.

Mice

Sunday, June 23rd, 2002

I was telling my wife about a delightful story, Conversations With A Cockroach, which led to the topic of household pests. She reminded me about a problem we had with mice years ago. When we first moved into our home there were many open fields and hence many mice. Gail is an animal lover, and no it doesn’t much matter what the animal is. If there were a humane society for mice she would apply for a job. But the mice problem was big uh, small uh; there were a lot of them. So she finally agreed to a trap. There was no way she would go for poisoning them knowing how they would suffer. The guillotine solution seemed most humane. So the traps were set.

We had just sat down for breakfast one morning a few days later when we heard a loud pop, or was it a snap, no doubt what it was. I said something insensitive like got the bastard. The mouse said eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Gail said oh poor mouse and ran over to the cabinet and peeked inside. The mouse was caught only by its tail, and was squealing and flopping around. I asked her if she would like me to put him out of his misery. All she could say was oh, oh oh. She reached down took the mouse in her hands and carefully opened the trap, (Don’t ask me how you carefully open a mouse trap) freeing the little fellow. She was whispering sweet nothings now. Poor little thing, oh I’m so sorry I hurt you. She took it outside and let him go. I sure hope we don’t have a problem with cockroaches because unlike Rouslan Karimov’s story, the cockroach would fare much better at our house. I can see it now three cats, one dog, a family of cockroaches and no roach motel.