Sunday, July 12, 2009
Looking for Mrs. Goldfish
One would think that after nearly thirty-five years of marriage (August 23) I would have learned something about my wife.
Well, I did. Finally. She has very sharp fangs, even sharper claws, and a vocabulary of expletives that would make a sailor on shore leave from the South Seas blush like a Jane Austen maiden.
All because I made a comment similar to Jim Unger’s Herman© cartoon. I didn’t say shopping “cart” because our drugstore doesn’t have them. What I did say was shopping “basket,” which to her thinking was no different than suggesting an empty 55-gallon drum.
Boy, you should have seen her reaction to my little faux pas. Her transformation was swift and dramatic: fangs, claws, the whole thing. Vampire? I thought, especially since they’re so in vogue. The store had all its lights on, though, so I was safe. Except from her caustic tongue.
I’ll be spending a lot more time now bonding with the hounds, and I might just as well throw my crotchless Peter Pan outfit in the trash. Oh, Martha talks to me, but in brief, clipped sentences like “Yes,” “No,” and “Not in this lifetime, buster.” Maybe I'll get a goldfish to keep me company.
I do have a legitimate question, however, if any of my female blogger buddies are still commenting to me. Martha loves nail polish and has a shitload of little bottles, but every one of them is a shade of red. Whimsical names maybe, but red is red, and I think one is called “Just Plain Red.”
The question is, why does she need so many bottles of the same color?