Until now this blog has been—whatever he might say—about him and the ridiculous things he says, does, thinks, or laughs at.
I think it’s time to branch out. Because I… I heard something.
Something that changed me.
Let me back up.
Have you ever met someone who changed your life in a moment, probably without even realizing they did it? Someone who has lived such a fundamentally different life from your own experiences that it makes you question everything (Do I really like corn flakes? Puppies? Sleep? Do I really hate spiders?*) you thought you knew?
I have, but this is not that story.
Yeah, I didn’t even get to meet her! Sorry. While I’m disappointing you, I might as well point out: this isn’t the story of the thing I heard, from the person I didn’t meet** because that’s not the standard format you’re used to and I didn’t want to completely short out your brains; as is our tradition, I am sharing the conversation that ensued when I told Husband the story of hearing The Thing.***
ME: I need to tell you about something that happened while I was getting my nails done, and I need you to be paying attention.
HIM: (turns, wide-eyed) Okay.
ME: I heard the stupidest thing—
HIM: But I didn’t go with you to the nail salon!
ME: … Dumber than anything you’ve ever said.
HIM: (genuinely attentive)
ME: So I was at the salon and you know they always have HGTV on the screens there, right?
ME: They were showing… oh, what’s that one… with the design architect who tries to make your weird-ass house work on a shoestring budget and the realtor who shows you way better houses—Love It or List It!
ME: I kept thinking Fix It or Flip It, but that’s—
HIM: That’s another one, I think.
ME: Anyway, the realtor was showing the couple this amazing place, a fuckin’ mansion—and by the way, where the hell are they filming this show that they can find these fuckin’ mansions for like 400 thousand? Where? I mean, wh—
HIM: My favorite part is when they introduce themselves.
HIM: And they’re like, “I make artisanal straws and she sells seashells by the seashore; our budget is one million dollars.”
ME: (deep breath) Anyway, he was showing this house and K and I were sitting at our table looking at colors and these two girls were in the pedicure chairs (gestures) to my left. And one of them says, “See, I love those floor-to-ceiling walls!”
HIM: (dies laughing)
HIM: (is reincarnated, still laughing)
HIM: (grows old in new form, laughing)
ME: But here’s the thing: she was being totally, genuinely, 100% serious.
HIM: (laughs all over again)
ME: (a little louder over the laughter) Because if I had said that shit, you’d have reacted exactly like that—
HIM: (nods, wipes away tears, still laughing)
ME: —But her friend? Just fucking nodded. Like it made total sense.
HIM: (refreshes laughter)
ME: So once again, I want to know: where?
HIM: (pauses laughter in favor of confusion)
ME: Where have these poor girls lived that the walls don’t go all the way to the floor?
HIM: (resumes laughter)
* Fuck yes I do. Everyone does, except people who are lying about it. Glad we cleared that up—spiders of the world, DON’T GET TOO COMFORTABLE.
** And may never see again. But I can hope. I have so many questions for her.
*** Which, now that I reflect on it, is pretty shit storytelling. But that’s how we’ve done things around here up until now and like I said, I’m only just waking up to the possibility of change. Then again, the odds of ever again hearing something this remarkable are slim at best. I mean… who gets that lucky?