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Yes, He's Alive. Hubby�s alive and kicking today. Kicking the pickup with the AIR CONDITIONING SYSTEM FROM HELL that blew up last weekend, and is designed so that nobody other than God can get in and replace it. I get to be Chauffer Wifey for the day while the Sonooma is DOA in the driveway. So, why did I let him live? I mean, besides loving him and all: 5. He�s handy. He can fix just about anything, and with enough obscenities and waving of tools and other manly gestures he�ll get even the cursed truck AC to work. And I don�t have to ask him to take out the garbage. As far as marital purgatory, there are things during and after spats that we never, ever do. We almost never go to bed angry, mainly because if I�m mad I can NOT sleep and kick him repeatedly until he has no choice but to talk things over. Men are far more malleable when they are in a sleep-deprived stupor. The master bedroom Arctic zone? I equate that to �I�m mad at you, therefore I shall stab myself repeatedly and rub myself with poison ivy and THEN you�ll be sorry!� Nah, not gonna go there. Tossing his stuff on the lawn? If things got that bad, I�d be chasing his hide with a butcher knife. Not in the foreseeable future. However, I am filing the �closet of ravenous voles� and ceiling fan whacka-whacka tips away for future reference. If you�re going to wreak vengeance, at least do it in style. Last, there is the basic tenet of the marital universe: Behind nearly every successful husband is a wife rolling her eyes and initiating the damage control sequence. Backhoes and etiquette suffice for most instances, but there are times that I would gnaw my arm off for one of those memory erasers from Men In Black. �You will not remember what idiotic thing he just did.� *FLASH* (Please note that mothers-in-law have a genetic immunity to such devices.) Maybe Hubby can take a can of Aqua Net, a flashlight, and some toothpicks, and invent it for me. |