Before I even got married this last time, my friend Janna, who is as wickedly funny as a person comes, dubbed my husband-to-be – Mr. Carol. That was in part because I didn’t plan on changing my last name to my husband’s, but primarily because (according to the quite wise and mostly all-knowing Janna) “the bride is the only one that matters”. And so it was – from that day forward the emphasis officially became more focused on Mr. Carol becoming my husband and entering my three ring circus of a life than me becoming the little missus.
As if I could even play that role at this juncture in my life – the little missus. I have been in the game too many years now to be the other half of someone. Prior to my current marriage I had been the whole enchilada for years and I was not saddened by not having to share a bed or not having a husband’s laundry to wash…no, I was just fine alone…most of the time.
Really, taking a whole enchilada and asking it to be part of a combo meal is asking a lot. Oh shucks – why did I use that terminology? Now I am thinking about Mexican food – did you hear that there is a new Mexican restaurant in town in the old Hooters location? I cannot wait to try it! Having spent the bulk of my life in Southern California, I love a good authentic Mexican restaurant and I have my fingers crossed that this restaurant will deliver.
OKAY – I DIGRESS…anyway, Mr. Carol has been a very helpful addition to our lives (and by “our” I mean Cheyenne and me – not the Queen and I). He does all kinds of things for us that we used to do for ourselves. Since he started doing these things a couple of years back I seem to have acquired selective amnesia. I can’t even remember how to do these chores for myself anymore. Not that I ever did mow the lawn or shovel snow, but I hired folks. I did lug the trash cans out to the curb and back and clean up after the dogs (Mr. Carol does that now). Mr. Carol takes my car to get its gas tank filled and oil changed, he cleans the garage, fills my bird feeders, feeds the dogs, he even vacuums on occasion – yep, can’t recall how to do all that stuff anymore…amnesia.
There is something that concerns me though – something that I suspect seems like nothing on the surface, but is dark and sinister deep down. Mr. Carol has been preparing the coffeemaker for automatic start the night before for many months now so that when I wake up and stumble down the stairs with no functioning brain cells my coffee is already made. Oh yes, I know your reaction – sweet, fabulous, nice…but, I think it might just be a little more diabolical than that.
I think Mr. Carol knows how coffee-dependent I am and he knows that if I fall into the pattern I have with the other things he does for me I will forget how to make coffee myself. And do you know what that means? I will never be able to divorce Mr. Carol – not ever. That whole bunch of stuff about “till death do us part” will actually happen in this marriage. Diabolical – I told you!
I cannot be without my coffee – without a husband okay (I have done that before a time or two) – but not without coffee. I need to have a plan of action. He thinks I do not know what he is up to, but I know. He acts like he is being a nice guy who just wants to take care of me, but clearly he has studied my marriage track record and sees utility in hedging his bets. He wants to have a 25th anniversary celebration – he already has his eye on it and a plan to get there.
Who knew Mr. Carol was so cunning? Not I. Most days I wonder if I could be found to be negligent per se for allowing him to play with power tools. He gives the impression that he is the poor hapless husband who has good intentions but seems to step in almost every pothole along the way. At least that was my impression before…but now I am on to Mr. Carol’s diabolical plot – he wants a spouse for life.
Well, I am not going to tell him that I am on to him. I will let him keep making the coffee the night before, but I am going to take protective measures just in case. I am going to have to write down all the steps for making coffee so I do not forget how to do it and store it somewhere safe and sound. I am going to that this very morning…right after I am done drinking my coffee.
Day thirty-six of the new forty – obla di obla da