...with a few Sour Skittles. Is that wrong?
Crap, the weather dorks tell us we are going to get up into the 80's and 90's for the next three days. I hope those dickheads are wrong as usual. Then Saturday, we go back to the 60's, and I can come out from under my rock.
I keep telling the wife we need to get new fans to replace the ones we have that have run for years, before one of them burns the house down. The stores are full of them now, at really good prices, that won't stay that way for long. But she pinches a penny until Abraham Lincoln's pubic hair falls off, so...probably why we have so many of them. Pennies, I mean. If left up to me, I am profligate, and believe in partying until you're broke.
Which is why I put her in charge of our finances. I haven't written a check in years. The guy that installed our blinds the other day had to point out where I needed to fill out lines on the blank check she had left me to pay him with. Even then, she had pre-signed it, and dated it, and written in the name of the company.
I just hand people cash, and forget my change, and they run after me to give it to me out in the parking lot.
I only care about money when I want booze, food, or some toy. Or if I am spending it on the wife and kids. But the wife, she agonizes over every expense. She has (mostly) quit coming to me for advice, because "Fuck it" is generally not considered sound financial policy. Though I am able to detect the odd Gordian Knot, here and there, and cut through it with great ruthlessness and precision, as needed. When it happens, she looks at me like I'm a god.
There are simple, elegant solutions for nearly everything. You just have to see them. Panic and desperation blind you as surely as squid ink squirted in your face.
One of the keys to our 'success', is that I know my weaknesses (why yes, I have weaknesses, thank you) and her strengths. It is foolish to deny your partner in life's strengths, simply from silly social conventions. Anything that can bleed once a month for a week or so, and not die, and can create a living human being inside their body and pass it through a tiny hole you can barely fit into, is a force to be reckoned with. And one worthy of respect.
So, my bitch is out mowing my lawn...where's yours? Oh, she would so punch me in the arm for that line. But she has learnt to telegraph it, and do it in a deliberate way, so as to avoid a nasty sprain. I flex, and take it. Hey, I earned it.
I'm still a man. And who and whatever I am.
And she is my rib.