Marriage is a funny thing, both weird and ha-ha.
The other day, I was in the kitchen
washing dishes and listening to Caedmon’s Call on my iPod while my wife was
straightening the bedroom. Just about the time
I started working on the plates, the eternally precious Mrs. Happy walked
through the kitchen door with a purpose. She strode up to me, planted a kiss
on my cheek,
then turned around and left the way she came. I didn’t bother asking why
she did it. I knew that such a conversation would go something like this:
me: What was that for?
her: I just love you. That’s all.
(smiling) I love you, too.
cue Smurf music…
Since I have to wash all our dishes by hand, and since drinking glasses are
by far the most annoying things to wash, we usually drink out of disposable
plastic cups. Since cups cost money, and since we mainly drink filtered water,
we try to use cups as much as we can before throwing them away. One day, Mrs.
Happy was sitting at the kitchen table producing some artwork. A couple of
cups were on the table. Thinking that I might take one, fill it with water,
then drink the water, I approached the table, picked up the nearest cup and
me: Is this cup okay to use?
What are these yellow spots in it?
her: Oh, that’s paint.
You were going to let me drink out of a cup that you used for mixing paint?
her: (appallingly unconcerned) It’s only watercolor.
Friday night, we watched the DVD version of a movie called Sexy
nothing to do with non-human creatures, sexiness, or sex. I have no idea what
the title even means.) My dear wife can’t stay awake through a movie that begins
at 10:00 p.m. or later,
despite her protests to the contrary every fortnight or so. She drifted in
and out of consciousness throughout Sexy Beast, catching only glimpses
of it through bleary eyes and a half-awake mind. When we finally went to bed,
she told me:
her: I couldn’t make sense of that movie from what I
me: Yeah. It was pretty non-linear. It jumped from the present
to the past, then skipped some of the present to get to the future, then
flashed back to the part of the present that it skipped, and threw in some
surreal dream sequences here and there.
her: (fading fast) What was it about?
me: Well, it was an inverted heist movie. The first 80 percent
of the story focused on the old gang trying to convince the retired gang
member to come back for one last score. The next ten percent focused on the
actual score. And the last ten percent showed us what happened after the
score. It was sort of like Ocean’s Eleven meets Pulp
Fiction meets Donnie
(with half-open eyelids and slightly blurred speech) Oh! I actually
thought of Dokkie Darno.
I was unable to stifle a chortle at her cinematic spoonerism. When I started
laughing, she realized what she had said, then burst forth in an uncontrollable
guffaw. After a second or two, her laughter outlived any humor Dokkie Darno himself
would ever have expected to provide. Her laughing made me laugh, which made
her laugh more, which made me unable to stop, which she found hilarious, etc.
We were sore and exhausted by the time we actually fell asleep.
Yeah. Marriage is funny. Sometimes weird. Sometimes ha-ha. But very, very