I have not posted for over seven weeks, mainly because nothing bad happens if I do not Blog. I chipped my tooth in early December but have not made it to the dentist yet. The garage door has been broken since last March. Water seeps in the basement when we have a Once in a Century rainstorm every other year. I hide from action items, hoping they outlive me. My wife Mollie gets annoyed when I reveal our procrastination idiosyncrasies because she worries our children will put us in a home. I remind her that we have no daughters. Our three sons are not going to put us in a home, especially not their own. We would not want to cause any divorces; they are capable of doing that on their own. I defend my tendency to overshare by: (1) Whispering to Mollie the real “dirt” I am keeping safely hidden in my Will; and (2) Assuring her that everyone assumes I exaggerate for a laugh. My defense only seems to make her madder.
My own cowardice led to an unexpected key life strategy. I married an extraordinary partner with a bad memory and made her the boss with primary authority to deal with police officers, school officials, other parents, and neighbors. When I told our oldest son that he could bring a few friends over after a basketball game, several carloads of high schoolers sped recklessly through the neighborhood with two police cars in pursuit, sirens blaring. Vehicles were parked all over our front lawn. I asked my wife to go downstairs and answer the door while I got dressed. The situation was resolved before I could find the right tie to match my socks.
Our middle son helped my career by forcing me to hide at Work for long periods of time. In first grade, he introduced compound curse words to the playground. As a 15 year old, he and two of his friends staggered up from the basement on a Saturday morning hung over and sick from a Vodka and Grape Gatorade Slumber Party. We were shocked. Who mixes Grape Gatorade with vodka!? I spent the day wandering around a Job Fair my company was sponsoring. The next year we hosted an out of state friend of our middle son as an exchange student for one semester. We demoted this friend to acquaintance when he created a controversy that led to the school publishing a formal sexual harassment policy. Mollie was a second grade teacher working nearby, so clearly she was the best person to represent us at all school meetings.
I especially appreciate how well Mollie handled the elderly neighbor after our youngest son parked our car in an uphill driveway, left it in neutral, and did not set the parking brake. It rolled down across the street and severely damaged her garage door and the side of her house. If trapped by a neighbor, I usually imply that I am the oldest son, making Mollie look like the heroic single mom she is.
Strictly dividing labor can be an efficient way to accomplish more. When both parties are allowed to load the dishwasher, too much time is wasted constantly rearranging each other’s work. Mollie’s method of loading requires waiting until every dish and utensil in the kitchen is dirty and then cramming them on top of each other and hoping that nothing will break and that water will seep through a few crevices. All eating must be done with paper plates and fingers while the appliance is running. I can live with that. My assigned chore is taking out the garbage. The disadvantage of being the sole trash handler is dealing with the stench when I return home from a long trip. The benefit is being able to retrieve my treasures and any perfectly good food that Mollie accidentally throws out. You may be surprised to learn I am not a licensed marriage counselor, so stop sending me traceable money for my advice. Cash only please.
Suicide Squeeze 