After being forced to sit on the couch for two days, to allow my foot to regain it’s former shape, I’ve had time to review my previous blogs which were considered, by a vast minority, to be “wife bashing”, and have come to the conclusion that it’s just not true.
Reviewing was the difficult part because I never edit anything before submitting it. It just seems wrong to do that as it smacks of composition, and we all know that’s the stuff you put around vegetables to make them grow better. I found many of the entries quite enlightening and I had to relearn some things that I thought I had permanently purged from my fluffy brain. Now I’ll have to address that at some point in the near future so pardon me if I get a little repetitive.
Another problem was trying to understand and follow my thought process as it wandered around in some of the more stupid entries. Diane doesn’t like me to use “stupid”, but I don’t know a better word to describe some of the stuff I read. Those blogs had to have been added by someone who has my super secret password, or I was in a trance which means I cannot be held responsible for my actions for either of those events.
Moving on … now, the wife bashing aspect of my earlier entries mystify me. All I was doing was relating how it is to be me. Perhaps I embellished a bit which, by law, I’m allowed to do … it says so in one of the amendments to our constitution. I’m sure that’s true, but I don’t remember the number. Does anyone know if you need to know the number of an amendment to invoke it? I might have to look that up or, perhaps, just write a new one.
I keep getting off topic here, and I apologize. You may wonder why I do that. So do I.
When I explain that I’m not allowed to use power tools when I’m home alone it’s because when Diane leaves the house she tells me, specifically, “don’t use power tools!” So, if by repeating that as a visual treat for all who read this, it’s deemed to be wife bashing, then I suggest that by giving me those instructions in the first place it’s husband abuse because I’m being told to “not” do something which I kinda like to do.
And, when I relate that I have to get permission to do certain things, it’s true because when I exercise free will and do something wrong, which I inevitably do, I’m told “you should have asked first.” Most of the time I remember to do that. Now. Sometimes I regress and forget. Actually, lots of times I regress and forget. No, I forget because it’s far easier to ask than it is to remember.
That last bit is important because Diane and I will have a conversation in the morning and in the afternoon, or a few minutes later, I’ll ask her a question about it because I want to know the answer. She uses these opportunities as a training evolution to help me remember what we were talking about by saying, “I just told you a while ago” which, in her mind, serves as the answer to my question. So, I’m left with a comment to my question, but no answer. Since it’s important that I know the answer, I push forward, explaining that if I knew the answer I wouldn’t have to ask the question, but she pushes back with “think about it for a minute.” Most of the time I’ve already done that which brought me to the need to ask the question.
After a round or two of this I actually figure out the answer myself so, perhaps her method works. Most of the time it doesn’t, however, and it leads us to the brink me calling a lawyer to initiate divorce proceedings. She just laughs at that because she knows I’ll never do that because she has all the answers. All I want is a few of them. Not a lot. Just a few answers, once in a while.
Also, most of the questions I ask can be answered with a “yes” or a “no”. I never get that. Instead, the response is a conversation where she tries to lead me to the correct answer while the entire time I’m waiting for a “yes” or “no” to pop up, but it never does. Consequently, while concentrating on the one word answer I seek I’m placed in the unenviable position of having to ask her to repeat her answer because, although I heard all the words, it passed all my filters as if I was trying to read random words in a dictionary … individually I knew what they mean, but the meaning of the combination in which they are used totally escapes me. I attribute this to the fact that once I finish my question, I’m waiting for the short answer and when it doesn’t show up in the first six words, I’m lost because now I’m that far behind in whatever is being said to me. I never catch up to the meaning.
It’s a sad thing to have to live with and you’d think I’d figure it out, wouldn’t you? I’d think so, too, but so far that hasn’t worked out well. Oddly, this affliction only presents itself while talking with Diane which I believe is because I’m more comfortable with her and trust her to be paying attention when other people are talking, or when she’s talking with me. When I’m talking with other people I must be paying more attention because I don’t have to ask them many questions about our conversations and it’s usually with other men who give the proper one word response to which I’m conditioned.
I know there’s a stark difference between the way men and women perceive things, and I’ve sincerely tried to get into my feminine persona at times, but that doesn’t work out well when we have to leave the house. In St. Helens it’s NOT OK for men to wear Reno 911 short shorts to ACE, or NAPA to get car parts. Other men frown and tend to reach for their side arms which, thankfully, aren’t allowed in ACE or NAPA. I’ve only done that once, by mistake. Now Diane checks to see what I’m wearing whenever she’s home and I have to leave for any reason … even to go to the driveway.
For those of you who made it this far, I want you to envision a fairly long break right here because I had to stop and leave with Diane to take her Mom, Jean, to lunch. That’s what we do on Sunday … we take Jean to lunch. Today we went to Sizzler in Longview, Washington. That’s directly across the Columbia River from Rainier, Oregon, which is about 13 miles west on Highway 30, which is confusing because when looking at a map Rainier is directly north of St. Helens. How does that work? Hmmm.
Anyway, we had a wonderful lunch. I was going to get all you can eat shrimp but reconsidered since I was just getting over gout and it’s been scientifically proven that all you can eat shrimp is a major gout causer. So, I had the all you can eat salad bar which includes fried chicken, my second favorite food int he world. I ate a lot of it. Jean was concerned that I’d start clucking like a chicken so, of course, I did. It sounded like this … Brock bock bock b-gock! Maybe not. I guess you had to be there.
Now for the good news … my left big toe is almost normal and the right hip is responding well to the pain killer the doctor gave me for my toe. Life is good. Now I’m quitting.