“Before you leave…” she said.
It is always something.
My wife has a problem with doors. Most people walk through them. She bounces off them. Even open doors.
We will be running late for church when..
boing..
She discovers she doesn’t like her shoes.
A few minutes later, boing again.
She stops to ponder, “Did I leave the curling iron on? I better check.”
Going out of town for the weekend will send her ricocheting off the exits. Were any lights left on? Do the cats have extra water? Oh my gosh, did we pay the utility bill?
At one time, this bouncing off things bothered me but not anymore. I have grown to accustomed to her obsession with last minute delays. It is just one of the many thistles that sprout up in the garden of every relationships – but I will never get used to her doing it to me.
I prefer to pass through doors unmolested.
On this day, I had returned home from my long walk with enough time to shower, get dressed and taken care of a few things – but at the very instant I put my hand on the door knob to leave, she nailed me.
“I’m supposed to meet Stan at The Pit,” I explained, “and I am late.”
“Is being late to a bar a real thing?” she asked.
Opinions vary, but there was no use in arguing.
“What do you want?”
“Help me move my dresser, I think my earring rolled under it.”
That sounded reasonable – but I remained wary. She was in the middle of a cleaning binge in the bedroom, a project I did not want to get sucked into it. Still, given the traditional division of household labor, moving heavy dressers is still considered guy’s work.
Oomph!
“Oh gross, would you look at that dust!” she exclaimed as she rushed off to grab a dust mop.
It was pretty dusty under there and of course there were all kind of treasures like: socks, combs and scraps of paper and…
Ooooooo… a ten dollar bill laying in the dust.
She caught me as I pocketed it.
“Hey, that’s my money,” she said, “It was under my dresser.”
“Finders keepers,” I told her.
She shook her head no.
“I am supposed to be at The Pit,” I reminded her, “and instead I am moving furniture for you. That’s my fee – or you can move it back yourself.”
She reluctantly agreed – but only under the condition that I move the other dresser because it was probably gross under there too.
Which I did, and as I did…
Ooooooo… a twenty!
I pocketed that too.
This was getting better and better, so I had no trouble agreeing to move the bed. Sadly, there was no cash under there, but we did find her earring.
When all the dust was mopped up and the furniture back in place, we agreed I could go. On my way out the door, I stopped to shift the bills from my pocket to my wallet.
What?
I thought I had thirty bucks in there, a ten and a twenty but my wallet was empty.
She didn’t!
She did.
“Hey!!” I yelled back at her. She knew what I was yelling about.
“Finders keepers,” she said.
I wanted to explain that is not how it works but I had a door to get through.
Almost Iowa 
Could your wife be related to my husband? He always thinks of something at the last minute so that I have to wait for him. He forgot his insulin pill, he almost forgot his mom wanted a plastic dish back, and it goes on and on.
I do that to my husband all the time. I don’t work other than writing, so I’m always broke and emptying his pockets! Lol
Ha! I suppose it all depends on exactly where you “find” something. And I’m going to remember that for future reference. My husband leaves his wallet on the dresser every night….
“Is being late to a bar a real thing?”
1/4 of my weekly blog post count on that being a thing. If I’m late, my buddy gives me crap.
Great story! I can so relate to this, being one who also bumps into every door. 🙂
I even bump into the automatic ones. I think there is something about a mechanical door opener that has a sense of humor.
I think so, too! 😀
One day, you’ll win… and it will be for all of us.
Crafty woman. I’d like to say my wife has the same problem with doors, but I have to admit I sometimes do as well. Just today…
Some can’t get through a door, some can’t push away from a computer. 🙂 🙂
HAhahahaha!! I mean out loud for real! Oh she’s a clever one indeed.
In our house, I am always the one waiting for him to get it together. The thing about the door is backwards, though. You’re supposed to forget things when you walk through them, not remember things!
Those are yo-yo doors. 🙂
There is no leaving the house on time for anything. The smallest excuse to go back is used if there is a possibility we will be on time.
HER: Oh My God, we are early! (if that is the worst thing on earth).
ME: It is 1:00 pm and the invitation says 1:00 pm.
HER: But no one will show up until 1:30!
And of course, she is right.
Yes. We have to have a 15 minute delay at least.
You have me laughing out loud this morning, Greg. Ah, how I appreciate your stories…and that smart wife of yours.
You have met her and testify to just how cruelly she treats poor little old me. [sniff, sniff, sob] 🙂
Ye-Gods, your wife is smart. Wish I’d thought of that!
Smart? Perhaps.
Devious? More likely.
😮 Is there a difference? Defined by success ratio~~
She’s a slick one. You don’t stand a chance!
One of these days….
a fellow blogger who is a psychologist once told me that they call this ‘doorknob confessions or revelations.’ the moment one actually goes to leave and they have a clear insight or speak the truth
Oooo, I like that
hahaha Not a high price to pay . . .
I figure I broke even. I rarely do, so I am good with that.
You have a crafty one there. I wonder if one could use this tactic to, say… get some laundry done.
I do my own laundry. I can’t afford to let her do it.
There is a sweet spot in our driveway that beams down insights to me as I pass through it. Insights like, I forgot my sunglasses, or I left the refrigerator door open. The heavy sigh that erupts from my husband, threatens to suck the oxygen out of the car, but since he believes ‘on time’ is 15 minutes early, I’ve never understood what the big deal is about going back to take care of theses essential items. Perhaps I need to ‘lose’ 20 dollar bills and ask him to go in for my forgotten items. He’ll be happy for a few minutes – until I raid his wallet.
At our house being early means arriving at the appointed hour, on-time is fifteen minutes later. To combat this, I set our clocks fifteen minutes ahead. I wrote about that here.