I'm a pretty good wife. How do I know this? Well, because I'm good at things like cleaning, laundry, dog maintenance and painting. I wear pearls. I curl my hair in hot rollers every morning. I'm perky. I drink entirely too much coffee. I wear pumps. I use the word "pumps" in relation to my shoes. I carry a fancy handbag on my forearm.
However, I think most of those traditional things wives are "supposed" to do just aren't consistent with the type of woman I am. I'm not subservient. I speak almost exclusively when I'm not spoken to. I don't follow directions. I have a really smart mouth. I like to pick up on shortcomings and exploit them with jokes that cut directly to the core of your self-confidence.
I mean, I could be in the kitchen baking a blueberry pie without my shoes on and with a large belly filled with a child. I could. But, I'm not. Besides, it's important to be realistic in regards to this scenario: I'm never going to make a pie. Ever. Too many steps involved, really.
But today really was my shining moment in great wife-ery. You see, my husband is obsessed with sports. All sports, really. Mostly baseball. And Cincinnati Reds baseball. The Reds, as you might have heard, are doing quite well in said sporting event and are headed towards the 2010 National League Division Series (or the NLDS, as they call it in the 'biz) and my better half was selected to purchase tickets for said potential momentous occasion. The problem? Oh, the problem. The problem is that tickets went on sale this morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp and my husband was busy doing his job teaching Algebra II to our future leaders to be bothered to purchase NLDS tickets.
But me? Well, I'm happy to purchase NLDS tickets. Thrilled, even. So, I got
So, this morning I arrived at work to an e-mail from my better half, which read:
Don't forget about the tickets!
Then, a few moments later:
Let me know how the tickets go this morning...
It's kind of like you're worried about a baby or something. It's funny.
In a manner of speaking, yes. Yes, I am.
Don't worry folks, the baby is just fine. I got into that virtual waiting room ahead of all the other patients with bizarre ailments and purchased tickets for some hypothetical game at some hypothetical time and date. For being so non-specific, they sure were