The idea for this blog came from my wife's own mind. There are moments that she realizes just how crazy or unreasonable she can be. When she doesn't I will sometimes chuckle to myself, or maybe loud enough for her to hear (that can be a big mistake depending on her mood). Since I don't want to alienate any female readers I may appeal to, men seem crazy to you, I understand. For the ladies there should be another blog "If You Want To See Pigs Fly Strap A Rocket To My Man". But that's not what this is.
I work on the weekends while my wife cleans around the house (very modern, I know). I come home and am usually too exhausted to function in any meaningful capacity. Most Saturday afternoons I just want to sit on the couch and turn on the Playstation or lay in bed and relax. My wife is usually prepared for these desires to just unwind. However, on some occasions there is still work to be done around the house or she is sick of talking to the cats and wants real conversation.
Last Saturday she wanted a bit more. She worked very hard getting the house ready for some friends that were coming to town and spending the night with us. I worked very hard on my feet all day in sweaty socks and just wanted that cool down time. My wife came into bed and lay next to me. We started talking about our days and all of a sudden she decides she wants something to drink. Ah, the proverbial cookie. I roll out of bed and get her her cool beverage, take it upstairs and leave it next to her to drink. I get back into bed and put my pillows at the foot of the bed so my wife and I can face each other as we talk. I lean back into the soft embrace of fluffy goodness. My eyes closed I begin to feel the hectic day fall away from the shores of my sanity, like the slow receding ocean tide.
Suddenly, I felt her foot pressed into my sternum strong enough to send the air in my lungs shooting out like a pinched balloon let loose to fly. I open my eyes and I see her gaze. Her eyes soft to appeal to my sympathetic nature and head tilted to the side like a kitten desperate to be held. Between having your breath ripped form the grasp of your lungs and her pathetic stare I couldn't help but let out a sigh of exasperation. She says, "What?" in such a way that for you to test her wishes would mean certain death. Now she has her glass of milk. Vocalizing my analogy for her she then says, "That sounds like a great title for a blog."
"Well, babe," I reply. "This will have to be something where I talk about just how crazy women are to men."
We have come to an agreement. I will write about all the absolutely ridiculous antics I put up with in the most biased way possible and in exchange she will always get her glass of milk to go with that cookie baked from hallucinogenic mushrooms that make her so damn nuts.
This should be fun.
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