Thursday, Jul. 03, 2003
Packrat? Did someone mention the word "packrat"?
I always know when the spousal unit's brought something home he doesn't want me to see. When his truck pulls into the yard he checks to see if I've heard him drive up, if I'm looking at him through the kitchen window. If he spots me, he gets this, "Oh, crap, I'm busted" look on his face that cracks me up every time.
Tonight was no exception.
When I saw that expression I could have strolled out into the yard and peered into the back of his truck, but half the fun of these situations is making him sweat a bit. So when he came into the kitchen we made some small talk about our respective days, and then I handed him half a dozen ears of corn to shuck.
I guess he found some extra courage when he was out on the front step. When he came back into the kitchen with the corn he immediately 'fessed up to his latest "treasure". Apparently the woman at his current job site had been throwing out some magnets and he had decided to bring them home.
Now say the word "magnet" to me, and I envision some small thing you stick on your fridge, eh. That didn't seem too bad to me, and I said so. Sheepishly, he admitted that what we're talking about here are industrial strength magnets. The spousal unit said that when he was schlepping them out to his truck he'd picked up two and brought them too close together. The force was so strong that before he knew it, they had slammed together, pinching his stomach.
He lifted his shirt to show me his reddened owie.
There are moments when I feel as if I have been married almost 29 years to someone who is 50 going on 8. The worst part of the situation is that these are the moments when I love him most intensely. I see all the layers time has built up fall away and there he is in all his goofy glory, just being utterly himself with no artifice at all.
The spousal unit's joy at the acquisition of these magnets, which he obviously considered insanely cool, was palpable. That put me in a very awkward place.
See, the packrat situation has always been a problem between us. Last fall we'd had another heart-to-heart about his collecting, uh,
He thought about that, made a list of the projects he sees himself working on in the next few years, and did some serious winnowing of stuff. You cannot imagine my delight.
And then tonight he showed up with about 35 industrial magnets.
"So, uh, whatcha gonna do with them?" I casually asked him.
I could see the wheels turning. He knew that Their Presence Here Had To Be Justified, that even though for him the words "good to have" were enough, for me there had to be some practical use.
There was a pause. Scenarios were reviewed and discarded. And then ... and then ... I swear, you could see the lightbulb go on.
"I'm going to stick them to the sides of my tool cabinets and use them to hold tools," he announced.
We both knew that this was something he'd made up on the spot. We both knew that the odds of him actually doing it were slim to non-existent. But I could see how intrigued he was by these stupidly powerful magnets and well ...
Not only did I agree that it was a cool idea, I actually helped him carry these surprisingly heavy things over to his workshop.
You realize what this makes me, right?
I'm An Enabler.
Excuse me while I go and bang my head against the mouse pad.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
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