32 years of marriage.
We can rely on the integrity of my portioning of responsibility for the tenor of the marriage or you can call on the Children, those coming from her womb…still tethered…but, come on, you can’t really count on them to be objective, right?
Or, you can come to your own conclusion.
Listen up.
There are ground rules, rails, that permit the Holy Union to remain One for more than 30 years. There are simple rules that follow a grueling day: 1) no requests to share the day’s highlights and 2) the maintenance of a strict quiet zone for 10-15 minutes. That’s it.
So, when simple rules are broken, the Union is tested.
It’s 6:45 pm. It’s the tail end of a long day. I’m sitting alone at the kitchen table. The fork hovers over meatloaf, mashed potatoes and a generous river of brown gravy. Susan sits in the family room (respecting the quiet zone). The Nightly News offers background noise with gaps filled with commercials for Viagra, Depends and Bradshaw pitching remedies for Shingles. The irritation level ratchets up from high to Red Zone. Network idiots feeding me this crap during the dinner hour. Are there no boundaries? Continue reading “Holy Crap, how DID I get so lucky?”
