The Febreeze Incident

            I did have one small role in cheering up the little lady in these tumultuous times of change.  I had a little incident with the Febreeze.  Every once in awhile I like to spray down the clothes I’m wearing ‘cause I enjoy my cigarettes and I like to smell good.  So… 

            Liz doesn’t like Febreeze for reasons I have yet to make any sense of.  But even so, it’s never caused any problems.  Or potentially poisoned anyone. 

            I had just finished blanketing myself in a lovely fragrance, Hawaiian Aloha, and no, I don’t think it’s gay to blanket myself in a feminine scent when the cigarettes tame it right down.  I had set the can down on the endtable, few minutes later picked it up to take it back to the kitchen only I had picked it up backward, didn’t realize it was pointing right at me. 

I had gotten up from the desk too fast and got dizzy, lost my balance (mild side effect of meds) and as I tried to correct myself I accidentally squeezed the trigger and sprayed myself in the face.  And then, in my startled shock, turned my head away and accidentally did it again, lost my balance completely and fell back toward the desk chair and instinct tightened my grasp on the can.  And trigger.  Sprayed myself with a full cloud of mist as I fell awkwardly into the chair.

On the one hand, it made everything taste funny for a couple hours.  Even my cigarettes.  They set up camp on my tongue and made it tingle.  But, then, my beard smelled frikkin’ great.  I got all cozy with Liz and though she claims that she doesn’t like the fragrance, she got a laugh out of it anyway.  My beard had never smelled so delightful.  And hasn’t since.

                       

            It took her mind off the kids moving out and being all alone with me in this empty and quiet apartment and her struggle to accept all this semi-unwelcomed change in our lives and embrace an uncertain future.  We can only hope it is a future that smells this delightful.

Hysterical Blindness

            Today Julie and Chris moved out.  Meaning—for the first time in the four years we have been seeing each other, Liz and I now officially live alone.  Just the two of us.  She and I.  It’s kinda weird. 

            Our first night alone in the apartment, and how do we choose to spend it?  We went out to eat with mom and the fam for her birthday, came home, she got on the computer, I laid down on the couch and fell asleep.  This was our evening.  Yes, we are getting old.  I can’t say that I mind all that much, though. 

            I was supposed to be spending the evening with Cody, the other daugher’s boyfriend.  He was supposed to be coming over and working on my dreadlocks.  He didn’t show up and I happened to catch a peek at myself in the mirror as I passed it by, took a long look at my hair, decided I kind of like it just the way it is.  So, there’s really no loss here.

                       

            I have to admit, Liz is handling it better than I thought she would.  She was scared heading into it.  We have seen this coming for at least a couple weeks.  No kids.  When school started this year and she realized that for the first time in twenty years or so she wasn’t going to have any kids to wake up in the morning and get off to school, she broke down and cried a little. 

            I kind of expected her to break down and cry a lot with the last two (of four) moving out.  And she’s done quite well.  Not a single tear yet.  And as much as I try to help and to cheer her up, I don’t think this newfound strength has much to do with me.  I’ve been insanely busy working marathons on the computer, haven’t been much company.

            The girls and I have had our differences, but for the most part we have gotten along famously in the time I’ve been around.  I’ve tried to be a positive role in their lives, they leave me alone on the many issues they rightfully could have griped about, and I don’t tell them what to do.  Ever. 

            The only time I ever tried to play stepdad was a couple of years ago, they were juniors, and they had missed Friday afternoon, came home from school at lunch and didn’t go back.  Sunday night they needed a written excuse to get back into school, so I wrote them this little ditty:

            “Please excuse Julianna and Jonalyn Emmons from school on Friday afternoon.  They were both stricken with a case of hysterical blindness.  Please let them back into school, as they are fine now, they can see again.” 

            And I begged and pleaded with Liz to sign it.  But, to no avail.  

Battle of Mountain Wits

            Liz got online today and read through the list of symptoms of Alzheimers, just to be safe. 

She’s appears okay with it, ‘cause she doesn’t have that one symptom yet. 

(I kid.) 

            I went storming into the living room shouting, “Google has now canceled my account twice for no good reason at all!”

            And what did she say to this? 

What did my lovely lady take from this and fire back? 

“What for?” she asked.

            So rather than get mad, I took a lesson learned from the Naked Truth incident, fight back with humor, I answered, “Mountaineering.”

            “What?”

            “Yeah.  I was mountaineering without a license.  You can’t do that in Germany.” 

            It wasn’t an overnight deal, it took a tremendous and concentrated effort on our part, but this is how we try to fight.  When we get mad at each other.

            She was irritated with me for being a smart ass.  So, she played along.  Pretended like she wasn’t interested.  Casually flipping through a magazine.  “When did you go to Germany?” 

            “Last week.  I was doing some secret recognizance work for Yahoo.”

            “On a mountain?”

            “Yeah.  Well, sort of.  It was a hidden lair within the mountain.  The Google agents picked me up on my way back down.”

            She set her magazine aside for this one.  Must’ve been important, I could tell already. 

            “I never understood that,” she said.  “Why do secret lairs always have to be so obsolete?”

            “Pardon?”

            “What?”

            I shook my head, motioned for her to carry on.  It’s quicker that way. 

            “What was I saying?”

            “Secret lairs.”

            “Yeah!  I mean, seems like they spend a lot of time and money going all the way out to a mountain in Germany just to conduct business.  They want remote, tell ‘em to bring their gear to Olney.  It’s gotta be cheaper.  Doesn’t it?  They could use one of the empty stores at the mall.  Ya know, for their headquarters.”

            “You just don’t understand the world of industrial espionage, hun.  And neither do I.  And that’s why we’re safe.  Big Brother is listening right now, and he’s bored stupid.  That’s how we will beat him.”

            “What?”

            “This conversation is senseless,” I said.  And then she had the audacity, the unmitigated gull, to say, “This conversation became senseless whenever you joined in.”  It was a right hook to the jaw.  She snuck it in. 

            My mouth flopped open, eyes wide and brow curled, I forgot to breathe there for a stint. 

I stormed off. 

She won this battle. 

But, the war rages on.