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I don't generally pay a great deal of attention to my wife, but several weeks ago I made note that she wears the same pair of pedal-pushers just about everyday. The only thing that changes is the color. Then I slowly started to realize that the color corresponds with the day of the week and that the pattern never changes; violet on Monday, lime green on Tuesday, etc. Well on a recent evening at supper after I'd had my fill of sports, Middle-Eastern gore and the childcare center that we call the U.S. Senate, I continued to thumb through the paper while peering over at my wife. She was already over at the sink washing the dishes. It was a Thursday. I knew this because she was wearing orange pedal-pushers, and I'd learned the pattern by that point. I thought to myself "what happened to all of those sundresses you used to wear?"
She looked over at me with big, curious, hurt eyes which I hadn't evoked or seen in ages. I quickly realized that I'd actually asked the question aloud and she replied:
"I'd look ridiculous in those now, honey."
She was right. She's grown quite fat. Boy is she large now. I hadn't entered her in years, but not because I was repulsed by her, I just never really thought to. All of the sudden I felt like I despised her. Whereas before that moment she'd always been a benign, constant sort of nagging thing in my life that I mostly disregarded, but didn't really mind either.
I was paying attention to her for the first time in ages and it struck me that I hated her deeply. Yet I was able to actually feel something towards her for once. I was suddenly struck with emotion and erratically got up, went over to her and said: "You're a good wife, Delores. Tomorrow is Friday, when I think of Friday I think of the color baby blue for some reason. Maybe I will wear that baby blue tie to work tomorrow that you bought for me a while back...Anyway, I'm going to head to bed early I think." I kissed her on the forehead and she said with a bewildered and slightly trembling voice, "Thank you Doug, sleep well."
