Conversation with My Wife (66.3)
Christmas is coming, mail piles are getting fat…
Some couples chat pleasantly over breakfast and share thoughts. Sure, we could do that, but then what’s the point of commuting together? So we look through catalogs and share tidbits. Mostly signs and t-shirts.
DEB: “My GPS has learned to say, ‘Your OTHER left!’” Why can’t Siri or Google Maps do that?
ME: “Textrovert [noun] a person who feels more comfortable talking over text than to your face.” Or even over the phone, in my case.
DEB: So when your sister texted you your mom had died she was just being thoughtful? I so need to get over that, don’t I? Ohh, speaking of your sister: “If I cut you off, chances are you handed me the scissors.” Those would be the ones I pulled out of your back?
ME: Let it go, honey. Moving on — here’s a sign: “Welcome to my kitchen. Many have eaten here. Few have died.” Although her husband does most of the cooking, sooo…
DEB: Yes, honey, you’re a master at letting things go, I look to you as my sensei. Okay, here you are, Jackster, you’re a PUNK: “Professional Uncle, No Kids.”
ME: It’s 80% of the fun of being a parent with 10% of the effort, honey. Ah, this could be either of us: “I don’t have gray hair, I have wisdom highlights.”
DEB: “If you see your glass as half empty, pour it into a smaller glass and stop complaining.” Could I just top off my glass?
ME: Say the word, Debster. “Mister Rogers is not adequately prepare me for the people in my neighborhood.” Nor did Sesame Street, come to think of it.
DEB: “Remember when Sarah Palin was the craziest person in politics? GOOD TIMES.” Sadly…
ME: Aww! Here’s one for you, honey! “I want to be the reason you look down at your phone and smile…”
DEB: Thank y —
ME: “ — and then walk into a pole.”
DEB: And to be honest, that’s just what I’d do. Oh, here’s a little paraffin warmer that masks the odor of cooking or pets!
ME: THAT’S AWFUL! Who would do that?! <looks over at page> Oh. I thought you said “cooking your pets”.
DEB: Nobody likes the smell of leftover baked cat, honey. “It’s a beautiful day. I think I’ll skip my meds and stir things up a bit.” Yes! The week before I retire.
ME: You know how people say I remind them of someone? “Whenever somebody says I look familiar, I smile and say, ‘I do porn.’”
DEB: “My dog winks at me sometimes. I always wink back. In case it’s some kind of code.”
ME: Here’s a duck that quacks, “You Are My Sunshine.”
DEB: Why would I need one of those when I have you?¹ “I had my patience tested. I’m negative.”
ME: “Pizza. Square box. Round pizza. Triangle slices. I’m confused.”
DEB: Engineers do better with square boxes, square pizzas, and square slices, honey. It’s fine. “Karma is like a rubber band. It can only be stretched so far before it comes back and smacks you in the face.”
ME: And now we’re back to my sister…
¹I like to sing to Deb. One of my favorites is “You Are My Sunshine.” But I sometimes mess up the words. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, / You make me happy, when I feel blue, / You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you, / Please don’t take, my sunshine…” At this point Deb is giving me a quizzical look as she waits for the rhyme while enjoying the growing sense of horror on my face as I realize I don’t have one. “…boo hoo!”
Copyright ©2018 by Jack Herlocker. All rights reserved, including the right to be appalled—APPALLED—if someone rips off any of these bon mots after I went to all the trouble of stealing them.
