The tangled web we weave

Friday, October 07, 2005

I have never pretended to be a good wife. I have never greeted my husband with a home cooked meal, or a sparkling clean house, or wrapped in cellophane. I suspect, at this juncture in our marriage, that if I were to do so he would suspect that either the medication had completely stopped working, or I have been taken over by an alien life force.

The one thing I do - however- is laundry. I love to do laundry. I find the whole laundry process to be very Zen. There is a beginning , middle and end. The clothes I love are returned to me smelling warm and good. I feel motherly as I fold my child's clothes neatly and place her little panties in her underwear drawer. Also, as a child, it was the one chore that I could do while watching television.

This may not seem a big deal to those of you who had unrestricted access to TV, but for my TV limited world, it was a huge deal. I was only allowed to watch 2 hours of television a day - pre-approved shows only and before 6 p.m. on school nights. The weekend days were split into before noon and after noon and we had 2 hours each block. This included video games and videos ( pre DVD days and let's be honest, it was a Nintendo original system). As an adult, I am wildly grateful for the fact that TV is not a necessary part of my life. I watch it, I turn it off. I am just as likely to read a book ( or play my gamecube - Video games rock!). As a young teen, I had no idea what people were talking about when they talked about television. We didn't even get cable until I was 16. And therein lay the beginnings of the ultra literate geek I have become.

But I digress.

On my wedding anniversary, we went out to dinner. I had two very tasty, very potent Margarita's. I don't want a pussy strawberry one - I want straight up, on the rocks with salt. It was at this point when I can be relied upon to start being more straight forward than usual - which is a stretch, I know, but possible. I decide to confess a secret I have been holding for years.

We'll call it the "Electronic Organizer Demise" story.

My husband has no memory. Frankly, I am surprised he has made it home and can still name me as his wife on a daily basis. He can not be counted on to remember dates and times, peoples names, where he left his wallet or keys, etc. His electronic organizer is what held all of his memories.

While doing the laundry one day, many years ago, the electronic organizer tumbled out of the dryer. Instantly I realized that this was not good. The organizer had been through the washer AND the dryer and that I had not checked the pockets and that it was my fault.

Shit. Shiiiiittt. Shizz-it.

I instantly hatched a plan to make sure that no blame would be assigned to me, and to take advantage of Terrance's lack of memory.

I waited until he got home. He had been asking if I had seen his organizer for a couple of days now, so he was vaguely aware that it was missing. Once he was safely involved with the baby, I ran out to his car and dropped the organizer on the ground - to scuff it up a bit. But, that wouldn't be enough to explain why the thing had stopped working. So I wedged it under the front tire of his Jag, in the shadow of the tire. This way, he would be sure to run over the organizer at least once.

I scurry back into the house. My plot is unhatched. {insert maniacal laughter here}

During the night, it begins to rain. Oh, the very gods above have smiled upon me! Rain AND being run over? The organizer has no chance against the mastermind that I am!!

That evening, he finds it. He has indeed run it over at least twice. It has been sitting in the rain all day. He walks in the house, holding the shattered organizer. "I found it", he says forlornly.

"Oh? Where was it?", I respond soundly both uninterested and innocent.

"It must have fallen out of the car and I ran over it, and it's been in the rain all day." He sounds dejected.

"That's Ok honey, we can buy another one." I am internally gleeful. I have made it! My plan worked! No one is yelling at me for not checking the pockets!

And that is it. The secret I have kept for almost eight years. Maybe someday I'll tell him about this blog.....

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