Columns
Habitual problems
Every marriage needs a little bit of an edge. I don’t want Mary Ellen and me to end up like our friends the Rodmans, who up until their 27th wedding anniversary couldn’t keep their mitts off each other, but when they got back from celebrating in the Bahamas they sued each other for divorce. They were so happy, they didn’t realize how miserable they really were.
“I have an idea, Mary Ellen. This evening, I’ll act out all your bad habits. And you can act out all of mine. That way we’ll both get a better picture of how much we annoy each other. That will add a little spice to our relationship.”
I jotted down just a few of Mary Ellen’s little peculiarities. I didn’t want to overdo it because I knew what a challenge it was going to be for my wife to create a comparable list. That night, after I returned from playing golf, Mary Ellen arrived home.
She began by not shutting the door behind her so that every fly and bug could get into the house. She also tracked a lot of mud in on her shoes, but she wiped her feet on the throw rug.
Before she even kissed me hello, she went upstairs and put on CNN to see who was ahead in the presidential polls. Then she put on Fox News and started screaming at the TV set when she heard Brit Hume say something biased. After surfing six other channels, she came downstairs, but she left the TV on in the bedroom so you could hear it throughout the house.
Then she popped open a can of beer and guzzled it. What ran down her chin, she wiped off with her sleeve. Then she put on the living room TV, so now we could hear both sets at the same time. Finally, she kissed me hello, told me she had done nothing all day but play golf and then asked what I had made for dinner. Even before I answered, she broke open a box of Pop Tarts, ate half of one, then stuffed the other half back in the box and left it on the counter. Then to nail me on my most annoying habit, she searched every room in the house pretending she lost her cell phone.
Now it was my turn to be Mary Ellen. First, I took all the plates and glasses in the sink and put them in the dishwasher, but not before I rearranged all the dirty utensils and put them in the proper compartments. Then I turned off all the lights throughout the house that had been left on all day. I went upstairs and put on pair of sweat pants and an old flannel shirt, just like Mary Ellen does. Next I came downstairs and went through the mail, carefully opening each letter, throwing away the advertisements and meticulously putting the bills in a stack.
Suddenly, I was out of ammunition. Worse, I was shooting with a pistol; my wife was packing a Gatling gun. This wasn’t nearly the fun I thought it was going to be! I sat down on the couch a little depressed. My wife sat next to me and put her hand on my leg that was shaking nervously up and down.
“I wish I had never come up with this stupid idea, Mary Ellen. How do you manage to live with me?”
“Oh, it’s easy, Dick. You’re habit forming.”
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