Wednesday, December 6, 2023
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.
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.
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| All I have to do is add electricity, heating and air conditioning. |
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Seriously? Me? Heck No!
I know that you are mad at me, and I take full responsibility for that. It seems as though I have neglected the part of me that wish to bring a whole heart belly laugh to you my three readers. I apologize for that. The decision has been made by my editorial staff of one that I should return to my true writing character and get back to sharing my world with you. Hopefully you will garnish a chuckle or two from my offbeat wit and humor.
The person that is most supportive and glad that I have taken this step is my wife. Since I have no outlet to relieve the pain of all these humorous thoughts and outlandish comments to vent themselves, unfortunately she has become the relief valve. They have to come out and most of the time she is the only human being around to share them with. This causes a huge amount of unforeseen consequences--at least the first time--such as being put out of the car and having to walk the five miles home from the golf course. Some things are just unavoidable, but they have to come out otherwise I will just pop. I could say more here about popping in the car, but that would be gross and not appropriate for my underage readers.
I have found that walking home from the golf course after sharing something outlandishly funny with my wife and being told to get out of the car can be very healthy and beneficial. The walk provides some very needed aerobic exercise and during the walk my mind goes to work thinking up more humorous stuff that I can be thrown out of the car for the next time. The beat goes on, you know and there is a purpose for all things. Now that I think of it though, maybe its time to rethink sharing those thoughts with my wife coming home from the golf course. Maybe I will wait and save them up for a trip to the mall. The mall is only a mile away.
I ask you, how hard is it to stop Niagra Falls? That's kind of what happens when I get a thought. It just has to come out. I don't know, it just kind of starts in the pit of my stomach and works its way up to the mouth to come out as an utterance. Believe me, there are many times that I try to cap the well and not share the thought but that doesn't work very well. I am not trying to do this intentionally, I guess its just a flaw in my character. Oh well, I am who I am.
The person that is most supportive and glad that I have taken this step is my wife. Since I have no outlet to relieve the pain of all these humorous thoughts and outlandish comments to vent themselves, unfortunately she has become the relief valve. They have to come out and most of the time she is the only human being around to share them with. This causes a huge amount of unforeseen consequences--at least the first time--such as being put out of the car and having to walk the five miles home from the golf course. Some things are just unavoidable, but they have to come out otherwise I will just pop. I could say more here about popping in the car, but that would be gross and not appropriate for my underage readers.
I have found that walking home from the golf course after sharing something outlandishly funny with my wife and being told to get out of the car can be very healthy and beneficial. The walk provides some very needed aerobic exercise and during the walk my mind goes to work thinking up more humorous stuff that I can be thrown out of the car for the next time. The beat goes on, you know and there is a purpose for all things. Now that I think of it though, maybe its time to rethink sharing those thoughts with my wife coming home from the golf course. Maybe I will wait and save them up for a trip to the mall. The mall is only a mile away.
I ask you, how hard is it to stop Niagra Falls? That's kind of what happens when I get a thought. It just has to come out. I don't know, it just kind of starts in the pit of my stomach and works its way up to the mouth to come out as an utterance. Believe me, there are many times that I try to cap the well and not share the thought but that doesn't work very well. I am not trying to do this intentionally, I guess its just a flaw in my character. Oh well, I am who I am.
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| My editor. |
Monday, July 4, 2016
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