The Muddled Male

Out of Sync'
 

By Bob Stevens, the Muddled Male

 I'm afraid that Ann, my wife, and I have gotten out of sync'.  That is tough to admit considering that we have been married for almost fifty-eight years and do almost everything together...now, at least.  Ann would tell you that for the early part of our marriage I was at work more than I was at home, a fact that I can neither admit nor deny since I have blotted it from my conscience and don't remember.  But a place where I know we are in sync, at least until now, has been when we shake bedding on washday. 

      Ann, you see, is very diligent in making certain that in our house, all bedding receives a vigorous shaking on both sides to remove any vestiges of dust from the blankets and other bedding every time the sheets are washed.  I don't mean a haphazard or lackadaisical shaking.  I mean a ritualistic, thread snapping, whip cracking shaking that removes not only dust, but sends particles of bedding-fiber floating all over our back deck. 

      Now with regard to being out of sync'.  For fifty-seven years we have used the exact same sequence for every wash day.  Snap, snap, snap, turn the blanket.  Snap, snap, snap, fold.  We didn't even need to signal which step was next or when it was to occur.  It seemed to be part of our genetic makeup to just know.  But things have changed.  I noticed it first as a snap, snap, snap snuffle.  A snuffle, in case you didn't know, occurs when the person at one end is still trying to snap while the person at the other end is done snapping and has begun to turn the blanket.

      At first I worried that it was my fault; that old age had messed up my ability to count.  So for the next wash day I made certain that I went to bed early the night before and got plenty of rest.  I wanted to be at the top of my counting game.  I am happy to report that the mix up was due to Ann's desire to make certain that every last dust granule had been removed before she remade the bed, and so she added an extra snap or two.  The problem is that Ann seems to vary the count every wash day and by now we are so confused that we might never get back into sync'.    We do have a nice beat, however.  In fact, we sound a little like a Calypso band.  Snap, snap snuffle, snuffle, snap, snuffle, snap.  Snuffle, snuffle, snap, snap, snuffle, snuffle, snuffle.  The problem is that we never seem to get to the part where we can fold and quit, so we haven't slept in three weeks.