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Thursday, February 23, 2017

The Only Thing I Really Want

The Only Thing I Really Want

I am a lucky guy.  In my older age, there is only one thing I really want.  Well, OK, a little extra cash would be nice, and everyone wants good health for themselves and their loved ones.  But beyond that I only want one thing.

OK, world peace would be nice, and a healthy economy.  Oh yeah, and an end to terrorism…but other than all that, I only lack one thing in my life.  That is, besides breaking 90 in golf, and averaging 190 in bowling, I only want one thing.  Playing guitar really well would be nice, and I wish I had a decent singing voice, but that is not the one thing I want that would make my life perfect…almost.

Did I mention a house at the shore…beach block?  That would be great, but that is not the one thing I really want.

Besides extra cash, good health, world peace, a strong economy, an end to terrorism, breaking 90 in golf and averaging 190 in bowling, playing guitar really well, a decent singing voice and a house at the shore on the beach block, I really, really want a wider driveway.

That’s it, a wider driveway.

We live in a town house.  It is a nice size for us, 2 ½ baths, a guest bedroom and a large master bedroom.  It has an eat-in kitchen, a family area and a living room and dining room that we almost never use.  We have a finished basement where I can hide from Mrs. Cranky and watch TV, exercise or practice guitar.  There is an association swimming pool in the summer, and it is a nice quiet neighborhood.  All is good, except we have a driveway that is only one car wide.

My car goes in the garage, Mrs. C parks behind in the driveway.  If I want to go anywhere, she has to move the car to let me out.  Then when I get back I park in the driveway behind Mrs. C.  When she has to go to work, I have to move my car to let her out.  It almost always seems that whenever anyone wants to go somewhere, they are blocked in because of our one car driveway.

I hear some of you asking, “Why don’t you just use whichever car is not blocked?” Good point.  Fine with me, but Mrs. C hates driving my Jeep, and she refuses to let me drive her car…she claims I adjust the seat and she never gets it back to where she wants it.  I know…get one of those computer seat setting things, maybe next car.

In the meantime, I only need one thing for life to be perfect, a two-car driveway…and maybe all that other stuff.

Life is good.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

I Hope You’re Happy

I Hope You’re Happy

I may have spoken in the past of Mrs. C’s tendency to be a hoarder.  If not, Mrs. C tends to be a hoarder*.  She is getting better, but still, she does have a problem letting things go.  If I threaten to toss some useless junk, her eyes gloss over and she gets a look of panic on her face.  We won’t be on that horrible hoarder TV show, but it is an issue.
The other day I was cleaning up some papers, tearing them up as they had some potentially sensitive numbers and information on them.  One page had no sensitive information on it and as I was about to tear it up, Mrs. C stopped me.
“I can use the blank side if I need to print something.”
“Oh please, that’s ridiculous, it’s a piece of paper, let me toss it.”
“It is a good piece of paper!”
This was not a battle worth fighting.
Fast forward a couple of days. 
We have a humidifier in our bedroom.  (We have forced hot air heating, and if you do not humidify the air you get dry skin and itchy scalp.) The humidifier broke down and we purchased an identical unit.  Mrs. C left the old unit for me to toss…sans the big globe that holds the water.
“Where is the water holding globe?”
“I’m not ready to throw it away yet.”
“Why the hell not?”
“In case the new plastic globe breaks.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Just leave it alone, I’ll take care of it.”
This was another battle not worth fighting; but I was annoyed that this globe that we would never use will take up space somewhere.  As I was fuming to myself, I saw the stupid piece of paper she did not want to throw away on top of a pile of similar stupid papers.
That’s right; I ripped it up and threw it away.
That night when Mrs. C came home from work she gave me that look.
“I hope your happy!”
I was pretty sure where this was going, but sometimes a wife will trick you.  Kind of like when a cop asks, “Do you know why I stopped you?”
I Played dumb, not wanting to admit to something she was not trying to have me confess.
“What are you talking about.”
“You threw away that piece of paper to spite me didn’t you!”
Damn, a borderline hoarder and a detective as well!!
“I hope you’re happy!”
I don’t know what or when, but there will be payback, and payback will be a bitch.

*Due to some comments I feel it necessary to reiterate, my wife is not an actual hoarder, we both just have very different ideas on the value of some objects.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Why I Dawdle

Why I Dawdle
I dawdle a lot.  Mrs. C is often upset with me because of this. 
“Would you get moving, we're late.  Why do you always dawdle?”
Actually, my dawdling is a subconscious act.  I do not intentionally dawdle, it is my subconscious saying I am forgetting something.  I may get half way out of the door but my mind tells me, “Slow down, you’re forgetting something.” “What,” I ask my subconscious mind.  “I don’t know, just slow down.” “Well this is ridiculous, I’m late and Mrs. C is getting pissed.”  “OK, but you are forgetting something.”
“Are you coming, why must you always dawdle?”
“OK, I’m coming, WAIT, my cell phone charger cord, my phone is almost dead!” “See, I knew you were forgetting something.”
And that is why I dawdle.  It is also why I am often late.  I just about get out the door and I think I am forgetting something.  Sometimes I am, and dawdling pays off.  Sometimes my subconscious mind is wrong.  “Wait, you are forgetting something.”  “I don’t think so.”  “I think you are, you better dawdle and go through the check list.”
This is where I stop and start to pat down all my pockets to see what I’ve forgotten. “Back left pocket…wallet: CHECK.  Back right pocket…handkerchief: CHECK. Left front pocket…bill fold: CHECK. Right front pocket…cell phone: CHECK. Jacket pocket…car keys: CHECK.  Shirt pocket…Cigarettes: NO! Wait idiot, you stopped smoking years ago. OK subconscious, shut up.”
Right or wrong, my subconscious always makes me late.  Sometimes even after I go through the check list I forget something.
“You’re forgetting something!”  “I don’t think so, I’ve gone through the check list, I have everything and I’m late.” “OK, if you’re sure.”
I have gone to the gym without socks, or a shirt, or even my gym bag altogether.  I’ve gone bowling without my bowling ball, left for the golf course without golf shoes or extra balls, taken the train without my monthly ticket or arrived at work without my ID badge (the last two before retirement).  “I told you so!”
The check list doesn’t cover everything.  Sometimes I just don’t dawdle enough.