MathMan and I made it through our first co-commute yesterday without a single puppet show. Thanks to those who provided future programming suggestions. What great ideas! However, I want you to consider carefully before encouraging me to vlog. Aren't I insufferable enough using the written word?
So this is how our afternoon commute went as we made the short drive from my office to our marriage counselor's office. Oh the irony.
First, I started out examining my face in the mirror behind the car's window visor. Why is it that I always see stray hairs that must be plucked only when I'm in the car and have no tweezers?
Next up, MathMan made a left turn and didn't stay in his lane. I chided him briefly but then I got distracted by the German bakery on Atlanta Road. My stomach growled.
I asked "How about if we stop there and buy some German pastries and then we stop at Douceur de France and buy some eclair?. We can do a World War II re-enactment and my mouth can be the Ardennes." (history nerd humor + food humor - Epic FAIL).
MathMan responded with alacrity, "That would give new meaning to the Battle of the Bulge."
I laughed because I actually got that joke and then looked down at my tummy and sucked it in really tightly, trying to meld it with my spine. More FAIL.
As usual, I was not happy about having to go to see our therapist. I don't see why we need to go talk to some guy about our marriage. And hey! he doesn't even have fab eyebrows. When MathMan picked me up at the office I moaned, kvetched and then whined a little. He was unmoved. I decided to take the direct approach - petulance and threats.
"I'm not going to talk. I just going to sit there with my arms crossed and glare at a spot on the wall. YOU can do all the talking," I huffed, then flounced away, shuffled some papers, clicked my mouse and watched MathMan from under my eyelashes as I pretended to concentrate on my computer screen.
Still nothing. His calm demeanor can be so annoying.
So there we sat about forty-five minutes later and my resolve was gone. I was participating, making a go of it, taking an enthusiastic part in the conversation about our relationship with each other and with The Spawn.
Then our therapist picked up this book and held it up so we could see the cover. The title was The One Question That Can Save Your Marriage by Harry P. Dunne, PhD.
Thankfully, our therapist isn't one to expect us to actually read the book, although I'm sure he thinks it might be a good idea. Nor is he one who thrives on the dramatic. He just cut right to the chase.
"The question is pretty simple," he began. MathMan and I waited quietly, patiently. I don't know what MathMan was thinking, but I know what I was thinking. There's just one question?
"The question is What would it be like to be married to you?"
I gasped first, then let out a very unladylike guffaw. MathMan seemed to ponder this quietly. Gathering my wits about me, I sucked in my breath and watched him. When he looked at me, I gestured that I would choke me with my bare hands. He just blinked at me as if to say "As if I haven't considered that a million times and dismissed it because I don't want to go to jail because of you."
We left the office with our next appointment scheduled and some thinking to do. What would it be like to be married to me?
The very idea gives me the shakes......
To be continued.......
To be continued.......