DavidRallisWrites: You're In The Jailhouse--Uh Doghouse--Now

DavidRallisWrites: You're In The Jailhouse--Uh Doghouse--Now:      So, what did I do wrong now?  Why is my wife mad at me?  If you are married or have been married, or have dealt with the female members...

You're In The Jailhouse--Uh Doghouse--Now

     So, what did I do wrong now?  Why is my wife mad at me?  If you are married or have been married, or have dealt with the female members of the human species you know what I am talking about.  I'm sorry but we males are at a distinct disadvantage when it comes to goofing--I use goofing because I am a church going man and can't use the "F" word--up with your favorite female and not knowing why.  Guys, you know what I'm talking about don't you?
     I got up this morning in a pretty good mood.  The dishwasher needed to be emptied and dirty dishes needed to be put in the dishwasher.  The kitchen needed to be cleaned up, so I started it and took a bit of a coffee break, fully intending to get back and finish the job.
     My wife got up and went into the kitchen.  It was clearly apparent to me something was a bit amiss as her normally bubbly champagne personality was not that but could best be described as more of a rotten chardonnay. I had a decision to make, probably wrong but the incident needed a definite course of action.  Hmmm...do I take the coward's way out and go to the gym to work out for say eight hours, or ride out the storm at the house and try to make the situation better. I decided to take the courageous route and stay, after all maybe I could garnish some brownie points and help make the situation better. I can honestly say that was the wrong decision.
     Yes I stayed, silly me.  I like describing things with weather metaphors so here goes.  Her "partly cloudy with showers" disposition when she woke up quickly changed into category five hurricane Julia--the name has been changed as her name isn't Julia to protect the innocent, namely me.  Into the kitchen she went huffing and puffing.  No dishes were thrown, but there was a lot of dish noise and a "See this dishcloth?  Its red where you have spilled punch in the refrigerator." comment.  I know I have been had when the refrigerator comment comes out.
     I know she was mad at something, basically mad at me in general. Stupid me, I asked the question, "Honey, are you mad at me?"  There was no answer, just a sort of audio sound of disdain. This is the upsetting "huf" that is sort of like the fingernails on a chalk board in its effect.
     What happened next is a mistake all of us guys make and I tried to stop it but it just came out.  Out of my mouth blurted, "What did I do wrong?"  After that came automatically out of my mouth I instantly heard The Death March--dum, dum, da dum, dum, da dum da dum da dum.
      "You know what you did." she answered.
    "Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry for doing, but I really don't know exactly what I did wrong."  I said honestly.  At this point I was beginning to feel like a whipped cocker spaniel who had just chewed up their master's prized house slippers.
     "If you don't know what you did, I shouldn't have to tell you." she responded back.
     At that point, I went down my list in my head.  I took out the trash.  No, that isn't it.  I put the dishes away, including the silverware. That isn't it. I hung up my clothes.  No, that can't be it. Hey, I even wiped off the toilet seat and put the lid down.  I even sprayed air freshener.  I give up!  What is it?
     "Besides, if I had to tell you what you did wrong you don't love me."
     That's it, I quit. The battle has been lost.  Where are my car keys?  I'm off to the gym or at least to higher ground to let hurricane Julia pass.

All I have to do is add electricity, heating and air conditioning.