As Steve harshly swerved into the correct lane to drop me off at the Tampa Southwest terminal this morning, I barked at him that he had done that every single time (eleven occurrences to be exact) since moving to Tampa and that he should know by now that the turn-off is always in the left lane. Clearly men are NOT as good at directions as they profess. So what does he do?? He smirks and tells me he does this amongst other little annoyances on purpose. Why you ask?? He was quick to elaborate.
“You see, I am the perfect husband”, he said with the emphasis on “PERFECT”, and continued to say that “every woman needs to find something wrong with her spouse to make a fuss over”. He is still grinning widely at me as he goes on to say that by “tactically GIVING” me small reasons to fuss, I wouldn’t have the need to look for bigger issues. Seriously?? He plans ways to irritate me? This is what he leaves me with as he kisses me curbside, and then instructs me text him when I land. Was this part of his Diplomatic training?
So I sat on the runway and thought about this while the male child in front of me pelted “Good & Plenty” candy at my head which continued well into the 1st hour of our flight. Was he going to grow up and do the same thing with his wife, or was he just a misanthropist in training? There was no doubt that this 7 year old was trying to irritate me.
Had Steve quickly manufactured this reasoning to justify the fact that he lost his way once again?? I sure hope not, especially since he had to circle around the airport and find the correct garage to park in for his flight on another airline. That’s right – we absurdly flew out on different planes today. We were supposed to fly back to Baltimore together, but an unexpected meeting in DC this afternoon, and then again tomorrow with the Admiral forced a change of plans. I’d wanted to get online with Steve and chat more about this premeditated PERFECT scheming of his, but flew on a wifi-less jet for a change. I am starting to dislike Southwest more and more. Maybe like my husband, Southwest purposely put me on a plane with no wifi to make me appreciate them as a “perfect airline” on the rare occasions when the aircraft is actually equipped with a router.
Admittedly, my husband is amazing in many ways. Please note that I used the word amazing, as opposed to perfect. If he were perfect than I would not look at his feet, summarily cringe, and then think of the word “Hobbit”. He is extremely indulgent of me, and does tell me all the time that I am the perfect wife. So perhaps my monthly act of insanity is paying off. I must subconsciously be using my increasingly, more dramatic hormonal shifts, which even I find difficult to live with, to my tactical advantage!! At least that is the story I am now going to stick to. Two can play at this game.
As the pilot desperately tried to find smooth air so that we would not be tossed around like lottery balls for the remaining hour of our flight, I longed to be with my perfect husband. The descent was so hair-raising scary that I was actually praying. I was going to take a photo of the candy that had been scattered around my feet, but the Plenty were no more having suddenly disappeared as we nearly skidded off the runway. These are the three things that came to mind during what I thought would be my demise, and for which I had no answer:
1. Who the hell eats Good & Plenty any more?
2. Why do I continue to subject myself to this ridiculous commute?
3. Is anyone really perfect?