I can't be sure, but I think my wife may be trying to kill me.
I have suffered too many near-death mishaps at her hands in the past two weeks for this to be a coincidence.
First, I was descending our staircase with a basket of laundry (which she must have known I would wash), my computer, and a bowl of dog food. On the penultimate stair was a well-placed grocery store bag filled with stuff she had been 'meaning' to take upstairs. My normally steady foot landed on the bag, and I slid as if on a banana peel. In the air flew towels, underwear, hundreds of kibbles, my computer, and my otherwise nimble body. And with a thud, both I and the computer fell to the tile floor, rained upon by a gentle shower of dog food. I survived, and so did my computer, but barely. This crash resulted in a $341 repair which may have been death for my wallet if not for myself.
Second, seven days later, she had us pulling up our carpet so that we could install laminate flooring. There I was, on my hands and knees, prying out staples from the underlying flooring so that we would have a nice, smooth surface on which to overlay the laminate planks. I looked up just in time to see our stand-alone corner dish cabinet falling towards my head. And, somehow, someway, I had the presence of mind to reach out my hands and stop the plummeting hazard mere inches from crushing my head like a melon. And, who was behind the cabinet? You guessed it. She claims she was just trying to move the piece of furniture to tear out what was the conveniently placed final piece of old carpet remaining on the floor.
Third, same day. On the shopping list she gave me was a pre-mixed bag of salad, which I compliantly purchased. I mentioned three days later, when she was cooking corn for herself for dinner, that we still had the salad. She replied that she could not eat it, but that I should. When I examined the sald bag I discovered that the salad had expired! I pointed this critical fact out to her, and she shrugged her shoulders, unphased. Look, I may not have a PhD in biochemistry or molecular genetics, but I am fully aware of the dangers lurking in leafy appetizers--E. coli, salmonella, ebola... and the risk must increase exponentially with each day after the expiration date. I did not eat the salad.
Finally, two days ago, after she claimed to have lost her cell phone, I found it that same night face down in the toilet, dead. The next day she was leading a field trip on which she simply had to have a cell phone. So, she borrowed mine. As my faithful and discerning readers will recognize, my cell phone represents more to me than the freedom to hear and be heard by millions on my nationwide network. My cell phone represents the addiction with which I struggle daily: cell phone Yahtzee Deluxe. And removing my phone for a full day at a time forces me to cease digital dice rolling cold turkey. The withdrawal symptoms were intense. Fortunately, I found a replacement phone for her last night. Were I forced to endure another Yahtzee Deluxe-free day, the tremors might well have done me in.
Ever vigilant, I will not succomb to her devices (though I may to crippling paranoia). Like Gloria Gayner (and Diana Ross after her), I will survive. I will be the Road Runner to her Wile E. Coyote. The Bugs Bunny to her Elmer Fudd. The Osama bin Laden to her American led multinational coalition of armed forces. I will dodge her blows and live to tell the stories. Probably in my blog.
Originally Posted: Tuesday, March 1, 2007
(Then) Curent Mood: scared