As we have recently demonstrated, Husband does not have magic time-telling powers. 


He claims he does, but that’s because he’s a bullshitter.  He’s such a dedicated bullshitter I’d be afraid to take him to a rodeo, for fear he’d actually climb on top of a bull and poo on it. 


Yes, I’m still mad.



zombie squeeze toy

This is Grudge.  I carry him always.



Anyway, at least one of us never claimed to be good with time—actually, I’ve gone so far as to explain, in great detail, how it is that I’m always late and proved that time itself is conspiring against me so I think we can all agree the current uneasy relationship time and I have is entirely the fault of time itself.  That person, as it turns out, is also the one who takes the most crap for being clumsy with time.  And, as you’ll see, numbers as well. 


Pfft.  As if they’re the same.



HIM:  (tucks me in)
ME:  (sleepily)  What time is it?
HIM:  Do you really want to know?
ME:  ‘s gotta be like 10:30… 11… 40…. 7…
HIM:  It’s 10:01.
ME:  Told you.
HIM:  (smiles)  Good night.
ME:  G’night.  I love you many!
HIM:  It’s really hard for me to believe that when you just showed me how bad you are with numbers.
ME:  Am not!  When did that happen?
HIM:  Just now.  You thought it was 10:30 or 11-something and it’s 10.
ME:  That’s time.
HIM:  But you—
ME:  And I know I love you lots and—
HIM:  See, that I believe.  But I don’t think you know how much a many is.
ME:  I’m do so!
HIM:  …
ME:  It’s more than a lot.



I can feel you agreeing with me, taking my side, and I want you to know

kitten snuggling laptop, caption "Oh Internet, you understand me"


It means a lot to me.











8 comments on “Approximately

  1. Victor K says:

    One of the very rare times I have to disagree with you, and ONLY because it counters Terry Pratchett. Troll counting: one, two, many, many one, many two, many many, many many one, many many two, lots.

    Lots = many many many, on the word of the greatest satire writer ever. In all other respects I continue to unquestioningly support your position.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Obaida Zeino says:

    Love doesn’t go too well with math anyways. It’s not your fault 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jack Herlocker says:

    Someone’s wife (who shall remain nameless, although you can call her “Deb” if it makes you feel better) has a sense of time, or at least clock-setting, that is variable and flexible. The closer a clock is to the house exit door, the closer the set time corresponds to an arbitrary value, or “what time it is *really*” as some others put it. Hence the term “Deb time,” as in, “What time is it?” “Real time or Deb time?” “Nevermind, I’ll just find my watch.”

    Liked by 1 person

    • Deb time sounds like one of those phenomena that needs closer study. However, it reminds me of a story which I am now powerless to contain:

      Husband used to have a clock in his bedroom which was set to a random time—because the power had gone out once and he’d been too lazy to reset it when it came back on, you see. By sheer coincidence, over a year after he’d learned to ignore the thing entirely, we discovered that it was fast exactly the amount of time it took me to get dressed and drive home. Thus I could look at that clock on his nightstand and see what time I’d be home if I stopped kissing on him and got up right then

      That was the last clock that didn’t have it in for me.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. useyourthinkball says:

    I am not a fan of Time People.

    Me to Hubby: We’re going to meet my sister in Key Largo in September.

    Hubby to Me: What time are we going to leave?

    Me to Hubby: You’re shitting me! You have to know what TIME WE’RE GOING TO LEAVE on a random Saturday 7 months from now?

    When we get up! When we feel like it! That’s what time.

    But he asks that shit every time <—a bad word

    Liked by 1 person

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