Being a Wife

I like being a wife. There are a bunch of raging feminists out there who would probably disagree with that statement, but I don't care. Get this straight, I am not a domestic Goddess. My house would give Martha Stewart nightmares. It's not dirty, although there are a few spiders we can't seem to get rid of. It's not that cluttered, but there are a few things laying around that probably belong somewhere else. I do laundry on a regular basis. I clean up spills and small disasters when they occur. I hated doing this stuff when I was single. House work was the bane of my existence. I usually had to drink large quantities of alcohol in order to get in the cleaning mood. But now, now I don't mind, because I'm doing it for my husband.

I like knowing that he has a closet full of clean clothes because I put them there. I like having him come home to a clean house. I like doing all the little minute things that wives do to keep their husbands happy. I like calling him just to see how he's doing, or to tell him I'm thinking about him. I like going grocery shopping and making sure I get his favorite soda. I let him play his video games all night without complaint. I like to ask him about his day and actually listen to what he says. I like leaving him little notes around the house telling him silly things. Hubby doesn't ask for it, I do it just because I love him.

Except last night.

There was a party at the St. Louis Science Center for the opening of their new exhibit, the Circus. It was a great time. They had the Flying Walenda's there to walk a tightrope (I was on the news, Hubby taped it. You can see the side of my face for one whole second). They had an open bar, carnival games set up in the corner, clowns doing magic tricks and on stilts walking around the crowd, and a pretty good band. The food was great, P & J sandwiches, little corndogs, popcorn, peanuts, chicken on a stick, and these little cheeseburgers. The desert bar had rice crispy squares, chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, and caramel apples. Clowns handed out baloons and red noses. The exhibit was fantastic. There was a section where you could dress up in all these clothes and have your picture taken. There was a tightrope you could walk (strapped in a harness, mind you, or I would have been concrete food) one of those thingies where you get strapped in and can jump around, doing flips and such, all kinds of stuff. It was so much fun.

But I was alone. Why? Because my husband just didn't want to go. He doesn't like crowds, any crowds, and even though we've had a conversation about him leaving me alone, AGAIN AND AGAIN, he refused to come with me. I had all this fun and no one to share it with. Oh, I was with a few of his co-workers and I did have a good time, but you ladies out there know what I'm talking about. There are things in life that should be experienced with the one you love, and I got denied. Why am I married if I have to experience everything alone? I don't think my husband realizes how it feels to see all these other couples having a great time together and there I am with just a glass of wine.

I was fit to be tied when I got pulled over by the coolest cop on the way home. I was doing about 80 in a 60 and he caught me fair and square. He asked me if I knew I was speeding and I said yes. He asked me why and I said I was pissed off at my husband. We talked for about 15 - 20 minutes about being married, not having kids, our jobs, getting tasered, all sorts of stuff. He was the nicest cop I have ever met. I didn't even get a warning. He handed back my license and said to have a good night and take it easy on my husband.

So I did. This time.