Over the weekend, when Wayne and I were embroiled in our “get me to the ER/I’m not going to the ER” brew ha ha, he made this comment: “Listen, if you’re sick we’ve got to get you help. You can’t die and leave me with them.” (“Them” being our “kids” –Murphy, Mr. Meow and Tabby.)
This was my reply: “I know. You don’t have the patience to care for them like they’re used to.”
Yikes. Thinking back, no matter how much of a meltdown I was having at the moment, that comment was uncalled for.
Wayne let that one slide, but later in the weekend he spoke up and let me know I was being a little too vicious. But only after I’d sniped him several more times.
The Sniping Chronicles
After learning no ER visit or needles were needed, Wayne and I set about enjoying our weekend together. We took a day trip to Cookeville and explored on Saturday afternoon. Sunday we enjoyed a nice walk in the park and then later a drive to Leipers Fork and the surrounding countryside to enjoy the fall colors. This presented a great opportunity for talk about all sorts of subjects.
Somehow, though, I kept finding things to snipe at him about.
Like when a driver coming at us from the opposite direction suddenly straddled the double yellow lines and hogged up the entire road, causing me to slam on my brakes to avoid a head-on collision, I made this crack: “Huh, a relative of yours? Drives about as bad as you.”
Or when we bought ice cream cones at a cute little old-fashioned soda shop in the Cream City district of historic downtown Cookeville. After a couple of licks, it dawned on me my butter pecan cone was a milk product –something the Ask-a-Nurse had told me to avoid to help minimize my coughing.
We were in the car and back on the highway by the time Wayne noticed I wasn’t eating it anymore. But we didn’t have any place to throw it out –except out the window. (Which, for the record, I was against. I thought Wayne could just finish it off, but he wouldn’t.)
Anyway, so he rolls down the window and pitches it. The cone made it out fine, but the remaining ice cream splatted all over the inside of the door.
“Yeah, that was real smart. It’s amazing you have such foresight when it comes to some things, but with others you’re completely clueless.”
A Sniper’s Revelation
He let those slide, too. At least, he didn’t say anything about them. But by the end of the weekend, he’d had enough. Especially when I explained why I was thinking of heading to Vegas sometime next year to catch up with one of my girlfriend’s who’d invited me.
“Well, you’re so busy being into yourself and only making time for us when it’s convenient I felt it was only fair I start making plans of my own.”
“Will you lay off already? I’m not a bad guy!”
Bad guy? I never said that…or had I?
Once he pointed out all the snipes I’d been making at him all weekend long, I realized he had a point. He was right. He wasn’t the bad guy. I was.
Yikes.
I don’t know why I was doing that, but I do know I’m going to make a conscious effort to stop it.
Courtney Mroch writes about animals great and small in Pets and the harmony and strife that encompasses married life in Marriage. For a full listing of her articles click here.
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