You know what I hate? When I find a blog I love and power through aaaaalll the damned posts only to find that the last one is dated like forever ago, and each of the last few posts includes the line, “sorry it’s been so long, I promise I’m going to start posting more regularly again!” Liar.
So I’m not going to do that to you.
We’re better than that, you and I. We have a bond.
Wait, nevermind that. Because you know what else I hate? When so-called “friends” can’t be arsed to call, or write, or even return a text or like your goddamned photos of your awesome new pet/house/haircut but will, once a year, post something like this:
Invariably, I roll my eyes and think, “yeah, fuck them. Why are we still linked?”
I’m also way too lazy to unfollow people, in case you’re wondering.
My point – I’m sure you’re amazed that I actually have one – is that we’re all going to just gloss over the past and the silence because I actually need your help. I need you to help us settle an argument.
HIM: All you need is to snip each zip tie with a diagonal cutting pliers-
ME: I don’t even know what that is or what it looks like.
HIM: You do. You have one.
ME: Do not, actually. Because I would know if I owned something that I don’t know what it does or what it looks like. That would stick out in my personal inventory.
HIM: You have pliers that have a wire cutter on them. They’re diagonal cutting pliers. Really, any-
ME: I’ve never heard it called that.
HIM: They’re called that because the blades are angled so that the cut is made on the diagonal. All wire cutters do that.
ME: So…. all wire cutters are diagonal cutters?
HIM: Yeah, but-
ME: (says nothing, but my eyebrow accuses him of some bullshit)
HIM: Look, when I was in the army, we had a very specific name for everything…ME: (eyebrow continues its cross examination)
HIM: (defensively) Not like YOU, with your one word for EVERYTHING
ME: Pfft. (eyebrow dodges this and goes in for the kill)
HIM: Yeah. YOU don’t use the real word for anything! You just-
ME: Whatsit is a word!
HIM: And you expect people to just KNOW what you meant by it-
ME: AND IT WORKS!
HIM: But that doesn’t mean that…. look, you can’t point to it in the dictionary and get a clear, concise definition of this specific thing. It’s a PRONOUN.
ME: (my eyebrow, at this point, leaps in ecstasy. Because I’ve got him) Oh? (grabs cell phone)
HIM: (warming to his subject, unaware of how slippery the ground has become) And you can’t just-
ME: HA! (brandishes phone)
ME: Merriam-Webster dictionary.
HIM: You looked up…?
ME: (quoting) Whatsit – something whose name you have forgotten or do not know
HIM: Yes, and you’re using it in PLACE of the actual noun, so it’s-
ME: Full definition; noun – something that is hard to classify or whose name is unknown or forgotten.
HIM: It’s a pronoun.
ME: Not according to Merriam, Webster, and the people who get paid to write dictionaries.
ME: And that is, indeed, the perfectly accurate definition of whatever thing I’m talking about when I use that word.
HIM: But you use it for ALL of them!
ME: AND IT ALWAYS WORKS!
So what’s the verdict? Is my use of whatsit (or “thingy” or whatever placeholder I choose) legitimate? Is it a noun, or is my husband an undiscovered dictionary savant?
Nevermind; leave that for now and come have a look at this:
HIM: Hey honey? Where did you want me to put this peanut butter? (holds out jar)
ME: … In the cupboard. With the other peanut butters.
HIM: You mean like this one? (brandishes second jar, like it’s evidence of my many affairs)
ME: We just bought a new one-
HIM: THIS is the new one!
ME: Because the other one was all but empty.
HIM: (puzzled look) so it was put back empty?
ME: (holds out hand for old peanut butter, opens jar to demonstrate the near-empty status)
ME: I noticed it when I picked it up to use it and it was so light.
HIM: I guess it is a little lighter…. My jars are heavier.
ME: … it’s…. no. “Fat free” doesn’t mean it WEIGHS less.
HIM: I wasn’t thinking of that… (ponders)
HIM: But now that I have, THAT’S the position I’m taking! (dramatic exit)
Moving somewhat recklessly along, the dedicated among you will remember the “I love you at work” dilemma, and the rest can just click that link right there. Go on, I’ll wait.
Right, now that we’re all caught up, I think you deserve an update.
ME: I love you,
ME: aaand, if you love me too, say…. rutabaga.
HIM: What happened to avocado?
ME: I’m calling a lawyer.
Since I don’t abandon an idea until it’s been dead, burned, and buried and the earth salted, you know there will be more of these coming.
ME: I love you. And if you love me too, say…. coconut.
HIM: Coco… no, honey, I’m in the car. I love you too.
HIM: Really. Bye. (hangs up)
ME: But what about the coconuts?
Will there be more running bit updates in the future? Of course! In fact, I’ve got PAGES on his snoring, including a new audio recording. So, there’s that. But not now. We’ve careened around just wildly enough for today, don’t you think?
Now is the time for an abrupt ending.
Ooh, except for that bit where I mention that we’re going back to Minneapolis in a couple of weeks, so if anyone has any restaurant/entertainment suggestions, they’d be welcome.