Guilt-Gone Girl
Because I decided I would no longer drive in bad weather, I have essentially been a shut-in here in Connecticut for the last four weeks.
And that means I did not get to the store to buy a Valentine’s Day card. I did have some chocolate-covered strawberries delivered, but I thought for sure I would manage to get out for a nice big mooshy card. But no. It snowed just about every day and I live at the top of an unpaved windy hill that is a private road so the town doesn’t even plow. My husband has a truck with a plow and sander. Sweet. We actually went out for my birthday to the best, fanciest restaurant in town – in the plow/truck/sander.
But Friday he needed my car to make a fairly long trip, so he wouldn’t have to drive 3900 pounds of sand round-trip, which even given the lower diesel fuel prices, would have been a mighty poor decision.
So he took my car, and a co-worker drove me home. (She made it up and down my slalom course road just fine, which I am sure you are wondering about, since I won’t do it myself.)
So I still didn’t have to drive on the snowy roads. But that was the day before Valentine’s Day, so I still couldn’t get a card.
I did the logical thing.
Early on Valentine’s Day morning, I searched the drawers and found the card from last year (or maybe the year before). I even found the envelope and it wasn’t too chewed up.
Voila. Expensive strawberries and a very pretty Valentine’s Day card, with a beautiful, still true, sentiment that passed for a new sentiment. After all, “I Love You, Sweetheart” is pretty timeless (so who could tell?)
But I felt guilty anyway.
But only for a short while.
We were going out to run an errand – hand lotion and bird suet – two different stops because we weren’t going to Costco -when my husband asked me about bananas.
Every Sunday, I make low-carb egg-and-banana waffles for breakfast.
“How many bananas will you need tomorrow?” Hubby asked.
“Three or four.” I said.
“Sheesh,” he said. “I asked a simple questions. Is it three or is it four?”
“Three if they’re big bananas; four if they’re small bananas.”
“Holy crap,” he said. “Can’t you give me a straight answer? I keep on hinting here, but you can’t seem to take a hint.”
“Hinting? About what?” I asked, still nicely, though perhaps not as sweetly as my guilty second-hand Valentine’s Day card should have required.
“There are four bananas. I want to eat one. But I don’t want to leave you short.”
So there it is.
Bananas seem to be a sensitive subject that you have to hint about. You cannot come out and say, “Will you have enough bananas if I eat one?”
No sir. Too delicate a topic. Apparently.
So I told him, not exactly in my inside voice, to eat the goddamn banana.
Then I went and got my purse and put on my boots, and we did our errands.
At the drugstore (where I no longer needed a Valentine’s Day card) my husband said, “Don’t take too long. We need to get back home.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I’m starving,” he said.
“I thought you had a banana.”
“Shit,” he said. “I forgot to eat it.”
I may use the same card next year.
- Posted in: Humor ♦ Marriage
- Tagged: Aging, Bad weather, Driving, Marriage, Valentine's Day
notquiteold 
This truly made me laugh. I swear we’ve had that exact same conversation! 😊
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I have given up trying to figure out how his brain works.
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and people wonder why I am single… more bananas for ME!
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I am still shaking my head over why in the world he thought he had to hint about wanting a banana!
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Recycle those cards….it’s not like anyone notices. 🙂
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He didn’t. And I don’t think he will next year either.
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That Is totally a conversation my husband and I would have. Right down to not eating the banana.
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I wondered later why we had that conversation. But we have so many of those conversations.
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Recycling old cards is brilliant! My husband would never catch on and I’d save so much time and aggravation! Oh, and the conversation, yeah, been there done that many times.
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Never seal the envelope. You can easily use the card again and again.
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I bet I could card recycle and he’d never be the wiser. Thank you for the great idea! But of course he would not be able to get away with the same.
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I have an excellent memory, but I’m not sure I’d be able to recognize last year’s card. I’m not sure I’d even recognize last week’s card today.
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My sister and I recycle cards. If it is a particularly good one, we don’t sign it….we use a post it note. We have been doing it for years!!!!
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What a good idea!
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My mother always gave us unsigned, unsealed cards so we could use them again. That’s what she said, anyway, but I always suspected that she did it the first time because she couldn’t find a pen, and then she had to keep it up to cover her tracks.
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I feel that way about gift bags that have cute tags attached. I never write on the tag. I’m not sure anyone ever writes on those tags.
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I usually make my cards and we have a box of those we’ve given to each other. Hubby doesn’t buy me a Valentine’s card, but I always did one for him. This year he embarrassed me by buying a card (with dogs on it, nothing to do with hearts, flowers and chocolates) when for the first year in forever I didn’t have one for him. I cooked us a nice meal though.
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Oh, I should say the dog picture was one I’d used in a post some time ago and he recognised it.
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I could have made a card… I used to make cards for my mother. She loved a hand-made card. My husband would think it was dumb.
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I’m still giggling over, “Shut, I forgot to eat it”!! That conversation just proves men and women are not of the same species!! Still can’t figure out what planet men are from??!
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This smat-ass tablet obviously didn’t like the word “shit”. I never knew my cheap tablet was such a prude!!
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I need a tablet or iphone to clean up my language! (and don’t try to figure them out… it will cost you your sanity.
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Sounds like a conversation I’ve had with my beau! Conversations like that can be maddening to me and then he’ll remember some tiny detail of a story I told him, or do something to help me out, and all is forgiven. But, I don’t think he would notice if I recycled a card either. Thanks for the laugh.
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In 23 years of marriage, my husband and I have had lots of strange conversations. I no longer try to figure them out – I just figure they are good material for my writing.
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After this year, I will never buy my husband another birthday, Valentine’s Day, or anniversary card again. Thanks for the brilliant idea!
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If he can’t even remember to eat the banana he had in his hand, he’ll never remember the card. (don’t seal the envelope)
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Oh lord. So much fuss over a banana.
My husband is similar, but he doesn’t hint, he schemes. Being polite Canadians, neither of us likes to eat the last one of something in case the other wants it. So he started trying to trick me into it.
Husband: “I’m thirsty.” *looks in fridge* “You want a Sprite?”
Me: “That depends. Is it the last one?”
Husband: “…no…”
Me: “You have a terrible poker face.”
Husband: “…maybe…”
Me: “Just go drink your damn soda.”
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Well…HECK. Fair is fair. Right? 😀 😀 😀 😀 😀 😀 😀
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Why can’t they just speak English like the rest of us? I failed mind reading 101. ~Elle
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Sometimes he starts talking somewhere in the middle of a conversation he has been having with himself, and he’s offended that I don’t know what he’s talking about.
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Hahaha
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