“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..
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.
“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.
I thought I had thirty bucks in there, a ten and a twenty but my wallet was empty.
“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.