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I thought it would make a lot of sense if we were to move the thing to
the front door so as to minimize the amount of work the movers would
have to do. In my head, the guys would show up at the front door where
they would discover that I, as the strong man that I am, had lifted the
thing and moved it all the way to the front door by myself thereby
doing half of the work for them and they would regard me with respect
and they would nod and grunt in approval.
The reality was not so pretty.
My wife and I began to move the futon and tried to get it through
the doorway of the bedroom. This proved to be a task so daunting that
it caused me to wonder how in the Hell we had got the thing in the
bedroom in the first place.
We stood on opposite sides of the thing and pushed and pulled with
all of our might, which really wasn’t much. Two people one of whom is
a tiny slip of a girl who’s scared to do anything that might result in
a broken fingernail.
The other was my wife.
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Marriage is the shit. It really is wonderful, or at least mine is. I have someone who is there when I need for her to let me know that something I’ve said is not as funny as I think it is, to pick me up when I’m down and to be my best friend. I’m usually there for her when she needs a jar opened. Neither of us are the jealous type, however there are things that can happen in a marriage that will annoy even the most easy-going and tolerant of spouses. Case in point: last weekend we were at a comedy club to watch a friend of ours perform. The place was pretty crowded and there were no seats available so we happily stood at the bar with our beers. We were both watching the show so my wife was standing in front of me with her back to me. |
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