3 Things My Wife and I Do That Drives the Other Insane
Pantomimes, doggy bowls, and tile plagiarism
I'll be the first to admit it. I do a thousand things that drive my wife nuts. I should probably be put in an insane asylum for some of my daily failures of basic human hygiene and dignity.
That's not what this article is about, though. This article is more light and airy, and about the more idiosyncratic things that she and I do, that drive each other insane.
My wife and I have known each other for over twenty years now, and we've been married for nearly fifteen. Let's just get down to it, shall we?
Things I Do
1. Asking for the bill at a restaurant
When I need to get the waiter's attention to get the bill, I use my beloved grandfather's time-honored method:
I wave my hand until I make eye-contact with the waiter, then I use my one hand like I'm writing with a pen, and I hold the other hand flat like it's the bill I'm signing.
When I did this on our first date, I looked over at my wife and her eyes were bulging out of her head.
"Did you just seriously act like you were signing the bill to the waiter?" my future wife asked.
"Yeah, that's how you do it. My Grandad showed me that." I said.
"I'm not sure I can go on another date with you," she said.
2. Mansplaining songs
Every time a song like Lou Reed's "Walk on The Wild Side," comes on the radio, I feel it is my duty to mansplain the background of the song. I pretend like I'm explaining it to my kids, but I'm really mansplaining it to my wife for the ten-thousandth time.
"Walk on the Wild Side"
"You know, David Bowie wrote this song . . ." I say authoritatively.
"Me and Bobby McGee"
"You know Kris Kristofferson wrote this song. He was a Rhoades scholar . . "
"Take it Easy"
"You know, Jackson Browne wrote this song . . ."
Each time, my observation is met with a resounding "We know! For the ten-thousandth time, we know!"
3. Buying gear
I buy gear like I'm trying to forget growing up during the Great Depression. I admit I take the "having-the-right-tool-for-every-situation" thing way too far.
When the Amazon box arrives at the door, here is what usually happens.
"What the hell is it today?" asks my wife, bringing the box into the man cave.
"Oh, this wasn't even a fun purchase. This is just something I really need for our ski trip," I say cutting open the box with secret delight.
"A shovel?" What the hell do you need that for?"
"It's not just a shovel. It's a backcountry avalanche rescue shovel. See, it fits inside the backpack I got yesterday," I say, demonstrating.
"We're going to Big Bear Resort for one day, you buffoon!"
Things She Does
I finish my IPA beer, and I take the last gulp with a flourish, then belch loudly and contentedly.
Next, I lovingly and painstakingly wash my special $12 beer glass that I bought at the brewery. I use the brush that we keep in the plastic basket in the sink. The glass is too fragile to put in the dishwasher.
My wife comes in the kitchen with the dogs' bowls. She grabs the brush and starts swirling it around the bowls filled with remnants of wet and dry dog food. She makes sure to catch every scrap of food, scrubbing deep to get the sticky parts.
"Are you kidding me?" I say with my jaw hanging and feeling faint.
"What?!" she says.
"You clean the dog bowls with the same brush as us?" I say incredulously.
"Oh gimme a break, their mouths are twice as clean as yours!"
2. Sleeping with the window open to "get a little air"
I climb into bed, timing it almost perfectly to when the "Real Housewives" is ending.
"Can you open the window, and let some air in?" my wife asks.
She's reached a stage in life where, let's just say, she likes the bedroom to be . . . cold.
The "window" is actually the full-sized door out to the patio. The door/window is on my side of the bed.
"Um, it's raining outside. Actually, it's storming," I say meekly.
"It's too hot in here. Open the window please," she says.
Fast forward twenty minutes later. The rain is splashing on my face, like Gilligan and the Skipper.
"Can we switch sides?" I ask meekly.
3. "They used 'My Same Tile' in [the bathroom, the courtyard, the entryway]"
My wife is very talented at envisioning, designing, and lording over the workers to bring her interior designs to fruition. She is proud of her design choices, but sometimes, it gets a little out of hand.
"Come up here," says the text on my phone. I am in the man cave.
"As soon as the [World Series Game 7, UFC Fight, Basketball Playoff Game] is over," I text back.
"Whatever. Rude!" she responds.
When the game is over, I go upstairs to the bedroom. My wife turns on the DVR, puts on a "House Renovation Show- Chicago Edition", and fast forwards to a two-second clip.
"See that?!" my wife says.
"What? What am I looking for here?" I ask.
"See what tile she's using there?!" my wife asks, looking at me expectantly.
"Yeah?" I say. Confused.
"That's 'My Same Tile!' She's using my tile. The same one I used in the bathroom!"
"Oh. Wow!" I say, still kind of confused.
"She's using 'My Same Tile!'" my wife shouts again.
Two weeks later. Another Renovation show in a different city.
I'm dead asleep, with the wind and rain splashing my face. Suddenly there's a violent nudging at my back.
"Wake up! Wake up!" my wife says.
"What's wrong?! What's happening?!" I say, terrified and reaching for my tactical flashlight.
"Look it's 'My Same Tile' again!"
© Copyright 2020 Jack Clune