Mayhem

Friday morning, we got up to find that the phone lines were down. It was apparently the jack in the basement that was defective, causing the lines to cut out. Then we had no internet. Then the dryer door would not shut--I called EG on his way to work to enlighten him as to the chaos and share the joy.

Unfortunately for poor Rocky, he got in the car in the midst of my stress and asked, "Why is my window open?" I blew a gasket, thinking it was one more thing which was going wrong.

After most of the morning was spent fussing with the phone, talking to our phone company (at least our phone company's computer), checking various things, and listening to EG swear at the dryer, we ran out to the store for a new phone jack. I was in an old hoodie and jeans, my hair clean but air dryed and not styled, and the only concession to make-up a swipe of mascara.

As we were racing through the store, I saw the new wife of someone I know, someone who is a professional and financially well off. His wife's hair was long and sleek, the ends waved perfectly, her make-up magazine perfect; she was wearing a lovely suede coat, perfect fitting jeans, and Ugg boots. She was pushing her cart, the contents neatly arranged, gracefully through the store. We weaved around her and dashed through the cash register, then back out to the parking lot.

I was musing about this woman, who stayed home to take care of her new husband and her children, a woman who apparently had time while they were at work and school to dress nicely and do her hair and make-up before running out to do a little Christmas shopping; she cared for her new husband, living in their gorgeous house, making a home for him. I told EG how her husband told me he had introduced her to the opera and classical music. I asked EG, as I mushed my cluttery mini-van back home to install a new phone jack, if he would be interested in having a wife whose focus would be to make a lovely and serene home for him, someone for whom he could be a Henry Higgins, someone whom he could tutor in the finer things in life. He said, "No. What could I talk to her about?"

I guess listening to him cuss at an appliance is a small price to pay for that attitude.