Well, it’s official. Mr. Grumble has lodged his first-ever complaint!
My husband has been the focus of dozens of my newspaper columns over the years. I’ve teased about his house-keeping skills. I’ve blabbed about his idiosyncrasies. I’ve chuckled over his lack of grace, his shyness, and his typical maleness. I’ve told my readers about his love of junk and how his pat-rack tendencies irritate me, and I’ve even shared the story about the time he picked up a half-frozen dog turd, thinking it was a rock.
Oh, dear. That one still gets to me. Pardon me while I giggle in glee at the memory of that day! It’s just that…oh, the expression on his face! The utter horror as his fingers sunk into the ‘pebble’…the disgust as he tried to extend the length of his arm past its means as he ran to the house to wash off the ‘rock fragments’… and even the pique at ME, for not warning him in advance that stones in Maine were rarely elongated or a bit curly, nor did they have embedded hair in them. I’m such a wayward wife. I really need to do a better job at protecting Mr. Grumble from himself!
I'll say it again. Oh, dear…
Now, where was I? Oh yes... my husband has voiced a protest. He read my premiere posting on GAG, which recounted the details of our wedding anniversary and how he’d forgotten it (although by the time he saw the article, it was also my featured column in The Irregular) and he took umbrage with me. Oh, not for writing the article…he knows I’m irrepressible when I’ve got the urge to tell a story. His indignation stems from the fact that he believes the story is not factual. He still claims he did not forget our anniversary. And because he didn’t forget, I shouldn’t go around telling people he did.
"Well, honey…if you didn’t forget, what would you call it?”
His brow knits in concentration."I simply didn’t realize the month had advanced as quickly as it had!”
“Oh, give me a break! You forgot it was our anniversary!”
“No, Karen, I certainly did not. I simply forgot what the date was! I can prove it! I’ll even show you a check that I wrote out just two days before the fourteenth! I dated it the third!”
I can’t help but smile. Stupidity is an excellent defense. Any good attorney will tell you that.
“Okay, Mr. Grumble, I’ll give you that. You didn’t forget it was our anniversary; you misplaced nine days in August, instead. I do apologize for teasing you about it.”
“Well, all right then.” He wears a look of vindication. “But I’d like you to print a retraction.”
“A retraction…” Hmm. This sounds interesting.
“That’s right. I want your next blog to state that I did not forget our anniversary! I’m not insensitive, and I won’t have people thinking that I am.” Ooh, how resolved is his tone!
“Well, hon, I certainly don’t think I made you out as an uncaring jerk. Just a… mildly distracted one. Ah...man, that is–not jerk.” I smiled. “Are you sure, then, that you’d rather I told the absolute truth? That you are not insensitive, but rather, you merely lost track of more than a week, with no idea where it had gone? Because I’ll do that for you. I love you that much!”
“Thank you.” For my compliance, I receive a pat on my head as he walks by on his way out the door. He’s headed to a meeting, you see. Of the Township’s Historical Society. An August 28th meeting. And this is August 30th. The poor fellow.
I hope the other members didn’t think Mr. Grumble was insensitive when he failed to appear. He’s not. He’s just distracted.
Picking up half-frozen dog turds will do that to a man.