hypothetically speaking
Disclaimer: This entire post is based on a hypothetical situation.
Picture this: it’s a Saturday night and you abandon your bag of chocolate chips so you, your husband, your child, and your friend can go to dinner.
Everything seems to fall into place: a great parking spot, a parking meter that accepts credit cards, the last table for four, and a good meal where nothing gets sent back by your hypothetical husband.
But then suddenly – at the conclusion of dinner – your husband makes a break for the front door, muttering something about an expired parking meter.
Your feel your blood pressure rise as you see the familiar envelope. You count backwards from 10 and you ask in a very controlled voice how much the ticket is. After 5 minutes of listening to “I’m not going to tell you” you find out it’s a whopping $58.
So in this hypothetical situation I’m wondering on what planet does it make sense for your husband to:
- Assume that a party of four will be done with dinner in 30 minutes?
- Put a 30-minute timer on his iPhone that he won’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of hearing in a noisy restaurant?
- Insist that he doesn’t want to hear how putting an additional $1 into the parking meter would have meant that dinner wouldn’t have ended up costing $108.50 ($50 for dinner + $58 for parking ticket + $0.50 for the parking meter)?
Can anyone enlighten me? Because I’m really curious. Hypothetically speaking. Of course.
platinum status
You know how some people get upset when their moral integrity is questioned? Or when their parenting abilities are questioned? Or when their political views are questioned?
Well my husband gets offended when his Delta frequent flier status is questioned.
Me: “I’m booking our NYC Thanksgiving trip. What airline do you want to fly?”
Ali:“Let’s fly Delta because I have status.”
Me: “What are you? A Gold Member?”
Ali: “Please. A Gold Member? Whatever. I’m Platinum Medallion. Platinum. Medallion. Got that?”
We're on our way back Dylan...to spend even more in your very cute but overpriced store.
As Ali feverishly dialed his special toll-free Platinum Medallion line to request a replacement card (I simply can’t imagine where his original card disappeared to) I debated my next move. Under normal circumstances I’d reply with one or more of the following:
- “Yes I’ve “got that.” You can take your platinum status and shove it *insert bad words here.*”
- “How cute. Does priority boarding make you feel like a star? Like you’re important and special?”
- “That flimsy little plastic card represents everything that’s wrong with the airline industry.”
- “I don’t really care what your Delta status is, I was just trying to make conversation so you’d think your input mattered.”
So what did I say? Well nothing. Because I’m going to New York again in a month and everything else is irrelevant.
what do you do?
Aside from being asked “Are you going to have more kids?” do you know what the most irritating question from a stranger is? Especially from a single, childless male?
“What do you do?”
I don’t know Mr. Single and Childless…what do I do? Well let’s see:
- I clean and clean and clean up after my husband and child. This is a full-time job, in and of itself.
- I spend time doing more unpaid and unrewarding work like driving my kid to school and cooking semi-edible meals.
- I do freelance work cutting out hundreds of 1st grade spelling test flags.
- I also have an actual paying job where I get to do fun things like make Excel spreadsheets and PowerPoint presentations.
- In my spare time I hang out at the park where I threaten kids with their lives if they don’t stop throwing sand in my kid’s eyes.
- I have a fourth unpaid job where I blog about people who ask me stupid questions.
In my typical neurotic fashion I’m probably just looking into this one a bit too much. I probably imagined the emphasis you put on the word “do” Mr. S & C. But the truth is that I didn’t appreciate your condescending tone. Not one bit.
You'd think my husband would lend a hand with the flags but instead he took this unflattering photo of me, kicked back on the sofa, and then turned on the TV.
And while I realize that I need not justify my days to you I think it’s safe to say that I’m a pretty busy person. Possibly busier than you, in fact.
Spend a day in my shoes Mr. S & C and you’ll see what I do. I dare you.
While I'm not going to win Mother/Wife of the Year Award anytime soon, I haven't killed anyone yet or shot myself in the head. And that, my friends, is how I calculate success these days. 
FANCY THAT FANCY THIS 