I imagine people are all the same after they’ve been married for many, many years. The longer Mike and I are together, the more predictable we are to each other. Time has tempered our reactions to what each of us thinks is insanity on the others’ part, but not much. Maybe another 20 or so years?
Last week we had two ginormous dead trees chopped down in the backyard. The company we use for great big dead trees is owned by a neighbor. Nice guy. He always gives us a price and then calls back a few hours later with a better price (I can hear his wife in the background saying “Don’t you remember anything? They’re the ones with all those kids!!!”) It cracks me up. I think they think we have a lot more boys than we actually do (I think there was a total of 11 boys here when he came to chop down the trees lol), but I’m good with a discount when we can get it.
The plan was for neighbor to cut down the trees and Mike was going to chop them up into firewood (I know, I know … those bitter Florida winters). I suggested once or three times that those trees would probably seem a lot bigger when they were sprawled across the backyard. But, you know, Mike has a chainsaw and what do I know?
On Saturday morning, I reminded Mike that there was no race to get the trees hacked up and that it was supposed to be 95 that day. True to form, he nodded and smiled and ignored me. I, too, was true to form and let him know that I would not dig out the heating pad or find the ibuprofen or offer any sympathy when he was incapable of moving on Sunday. Keep in mind that Mike works out 5 days a week and is in remarkably good shape (I won’t even add the ‘for someone his age’ part). These trees were probably 40′ tall each and the tree guy would have had two 20-something guys chopping them up for several hours had we asked him to do the work.
Come Sunday, I pretended not to notice Mike literally crawling out of our bed. I pretended not to notice him rumbling through the cabinets in search of painkillers. I pretended not to notice his sudden interest in reading quietly in the recliner all day. I pretended not to notice when he went to bed at 8:30 that night.
Monday evening, when Mike drove into the driveway after work, I did not comment on the fact that he had his seat-heaters running full speed despite the hot, humid weather. He, in turn, fixed a smile on his face as he hoisted himself out of the truck.
I’m sure he’ll feel fine tomorrow and we can gear up for another round of “No, I’m NOT Overdoing It,” this weekend for tree #2.
We have many versions of this game; I’m sure you do too. Some of my favorites are: “Did you make a list before you go to the hardware store?”; “We have a perfectly good oven, you do not have to grill the chicken in a violent lightning storm.”; and, one of Mike’s personal favorites — “Yes, honey, I clean that dryer lint thingie EVERY time I do a load of laundry. I don’t know how it all gets so backed up! (Sure, I do.)”
What are your favorites?