Golf and the art of appliance maintenance.
Snarling. My wife was just actually snarling. I walked back into our bedroom and I heard this vaguely psychotic hissing sound, as if someone was doing their best impression of the possessed girl from “The Exorcist.” It was my wife and it’s all my fault.
Let me first just say that her reaction was not unwarranted. Even in the best of circumstances a casual snarl would have been expected. These are not the best of circumstances.
We live in a world where the only escape from our immediate family is a trip to the grocery store where we must wrap a handkerchief around our face and abide by one way pedestrian traffic up every other aisle. What happens if I accidently walk by the thing in my aisle? Am I supposed to redo the maze? I went to the store earlier for bread, orange juice and these fancy protein bars that my wife likes; it took me 45 minutes.
But back to my wife’s snarling. I believe that the heart of the problem lies in the fact that daily life for most of us has become this bizarre amalgamation of boredom and terror. But also, I am a dumbass who sucks at fixing things. I am well aware of this fact and yet I keep trying my hand at it. Today I fixed the dishwasher.
I should have fixed the dishwasher yesterday but instead we played. We went golfing. I alone actually golfed but we had snacks, drove carts and enjoyed the phenomenal weather. Storm clouds gathered overhead like dramatic sentries guarding our pale, ginger skin from a wrathful sun. My kids ran back and forth like wild savages who had only just discovered green grass and daylight. There were zero fights and our faces actually hurt afterward from smiling too much. That night we had some good friends over to barbecue steaks and drink wine. My face still hurts from smiling all of that wine.
Perhaps this contributed to my “fixing” of the dishwasher.
I fixed it today. Then tonight when we ran the damn thing it dumped water all over the damn floor of the damn kitchen. Damnit.
I realize now that I should not have thrown such caution to the wind when I had four screws left over after fixing the dishwasher. Again, I am a dumbass when it comes to fixing stuff.
I did the only thing I could do which was to throw every towel we own on the floor in order to soak up the water. My wife walked into this mess, likely saw how proud my stupid face looked for cleaning up my own disaster and she swiftly vacated the situation.
The next bit is where I walked in on her snarling to herself in the bathroom. Did I mention that she does all the laundry?
In my still euphoric daze I responded without tact and laughed at the hilarity of all. I literally bent over and cried for laughing so hard. I understood her frustration but it’s manifestation was so raw and unchecked that it’s stark contrast to the overwhelming joy of the day before painted it in a light that was both totally understandable and yet menacingly ridiculous.
She threw a can of nuts at my face.
She missed. Then she laughed. My next move will be to call some professionals to fix my dishwasher.
But for now, here’s to appreciating every moment. Smile to snarl, I’m here for the whole ride.