Shady Lady
By Bob Stevens, The Muddled Male
I
am in the middle of a spat with Ann, my wife.
It is an ongoing thing caused by a disagreement over which of us usually
get their way in our relationship. Ann complains
that she always gives in so that she doesn’t have to listen to me whine. I, on the other hand, claim that I always
give in just to avoid any chastisement I might receive from exasperating her one
too many times. If you are a husband you
will know what I mean. While she claims
to have said, “Honey, I would be really appreciative
if you wouldn’t do that,” what I heard was Darth Vader saying, “You underestimate the power of the dark
side, Obi-wan. I was the learner, but now I am the master.” It makes chills run up and down my spine just typing
those words.
In
the interest of fairness, let me share a recent experience and let you judge
who usually gets their way. My normal
mode when shopping is to park as close to the store entrance as possible so
that I reduce the distance we have to walk in the hot sun. That means that the car may end up
sitting in the sun while we are gone, and it may be a tad warm when we return. But in my simple little engineering brain,
that is what air conditioners are for, to cool cars that have gotten hot sitting
in the sun. Ann, on the other hand,
doesn’t care how far I have to walk in the sun so long as we can park the car
in the shade so that it will be relatively cool when we return from the store. More than that she keeps reminding me that I
need to walk more if I want to live longer anyway, and I should just consider
the walk healthy exercise. And so we
drive round and round the parking lot looking for a small spot of shade to
protect the car without giving any thought to how much sun we will absorb in
the walk to and from the store. And yes,
as I suspect that you already know, the shady area is always in the far corner
of the lot, the longest possible distance from the store entrance.
Last
week we were going shopping specifically to get a box of CreamiesTM which, in case you didn’t know, are very
delicious popsicles that Ann noticed were on sale. The weather was hot, and Ann, in her best
Darth Vader impersonation, reminded me that I was to keep driving until I found
a spot of shade in which to park the car.
Then in that low, dark, threatening voice she said, “Quit whining, the walk will do you good.” So being an obedient and compliant husband
who is also a wimp, I headed for the shade in the far corner of the lot to
avoid being struck with the light saber I suspected she was carrying in her
purse along with a thousand other odds and ends she collected there over the
past sixty years.
To
our delight we were able to buy a box of CreamiesTM
that contained not only the orange flavored kind that taste like heaven, but also
the cherry flavored kind that are dipped in chocolate and make you want to
hurry home and eat one before you even have supper. But as we arrived at the store exit and were
about to step out into the sun for the long walk back to our car way over there
in the shade, Darth, my wife, clutched the box of CreamiesTM to her bosom and said, in a child-like whine,
“I don’t think I should take these out
into the sun. You walk out to the car and
bring it back while I stand here in the cool store to protect these popsicles. And
by the way, turn the air conditioner on high before you get back here to pick
me up. These need to be kept refrigerated.”
And
now I leave it to you, oh fair and impartial panel. Who would you guess really gets their way most
in our home?
Footnote: Darth said that I should be honest and admit
that all of the above has been fabricated in the demented mind of someone who
has walked too far in the sun. But do you
really think that I would exaggerate and risk punishment by light saber?
