Nothing papercrafty today! Just a story . . .
Did you read my post . . . "Sometimes I Quote Movies." It was last week, I believe. And people who know me well know that sometimes I do quote movies. I quote them a lot! Random quotes from movies just spring from my vocabulary. It is true.
The same cannot be said for my husband. The man cannot remember what I said to him last night, let alone what came from a movie. I think he is annoyed when I quote movies to him.
So isn't this an interesting and shocking scenario. My husband (let's call him Rick, because that's is name, and sometimes I pronounce it "wreck") is a bit of a combination of hoarder man and OCD boy. He can stress out about the nerdiest stuff in the world, but other things that are right in his face . . . nothing. And when you explain these vast differences . . . he does get a bit quizzical, but it likely won't change him.
Here is the situation . . . Hurricane Irene forecasts are coming fast and furious. And I come home talking about it, because I work for an insurance company. It's all around me. So I'm a little stressed about being pulled from my regular work to go work at our company's catastrophe center. I'm feverishly trying to get my "work life" in order. I come home to "Wreck" the other night. He mentions a generator and how we should have one to keep our fairly new sump pump running when we lose power. Our basement is going to flood. I hear him, but I somehow hear, "blah, blah, blah" between all the important parts.
I mock him. You won't be able to find a generator unless you go right now. In a flash, he is gone. I can't help but wonder how this man who is too tired to do a thing every night of the week has suddenly mustered up the energy to go shopping for generators. He returns with stories of his evening. He bought one . . . but then talked with a man in a parking lot (as men often do at the Home Depot) and then he ran to another store (under advisement from parking lot man) to buy a second generator that is cheaper and has more power than the first. With "more power" generator in his possession, he goes back to Home Depot and returns the first.
Seriously? All in one night. Is this the same man who is usually asleep in front of the television by now?
O.K., so generator comes home. He talks about it all excited. It will power the sump pump and refrigerator. Really? No air conditioning? I'm moving into my car when we lose the power. He is obviously disappointed in my lack of enthusiasm.
So then comes the on-line research mode where suddenly this man becomes an expert on generators. He could now teach a class on it, I think.
He spends Thursday night out buying supplies to hook up his generator (two nights in a row of an awake state).
Friday morning comes the fun part. Let me just say . . . after nearly 30 years of marriage this man should know one thing about me. I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON. Do not wake me with happy news. Do not wake me with sad news. And most importantly, do not wake me in Henny Penny (Chicken Little) fashion and tell me the sky is falling.
This man has never learned. Friday morning while I'm trying to sleep, it's the constant, constant panic mode boy known as "Wreck" who is coming in and out of my morning dreams. He is listing all the things that have to be done before we lose power. He is telling me what he expects of me. Between ramblings, I am just trying to sleep. By the time I do fully wake up, I'm madder than a mosquito at a mannequin factory and he is gone. I shower, get dressed, cool down from my anger, and then I call him at work, and I tear into that boy.
Seriously folks . . . I do not mind helping. I'm a worker. But it's all in the delivery! You come at me with your "Chicken Little" attitude, and I'm running the other way. Our conversation on the phone lasted about ten minutes, and nine minutes was me yelling. He had possession of the other minute, and I was two winded and angry to know what he said. But I know that I said I wanted a detailed list of what he wanted me to do sent via e-mail to me at work.
So a few hours later I send a quick e-mail in the afternoon and I say, "Where is my list? Do we need batteries or water? I can go out and buy them."
His typed response . . . which speaks to the "hoarder" in him . . .
If you knew how many batteries I had, you would have me committed.
My thought . . . I have news for you. I would have you committed even without the battery information.
But here is the funny part. He goes into a rant about everything he is going to do, and then he talks again about his generator (he is so proud). This is what he says . . .
Looking through the manual, I think the generator will run the sump pump, refrigerator, fan and fluorescent light or two.
We could run the coffee maker or microwave when the sump pump is turned off, or unplug the refrigerator.
Here is where it gets really good for me . . .
Wait for it . . .
Remember the Apollo 13 movie. "It's all about sequencing the devices that draw power." or something like that.
That single line was the ice-breaker to the fight. Whether he knew it or not, he was speaking my language. A movie quote for the queen of movie quoting! (I'm sure he does not know . . . he does not read my blog.)
He's still a wreck! He's still a battery hoarder. He's still a nerd. But the "fight" fizzled out. I don't think anyone won.
What's scary . . . I've already moved on to the next one. He does not know this. He is clueless. Woman remember everything. We drag up crap from five . . . eight . . . twelve . . . seventeen years ago to use as ammo in an argument.
Now that I know he can go to three stores shopping, and actually think and reason with money (when he has told me in the past that he is just SO TIRED at night) . . . now that I know that he can go shopping two nights in a row . . . now that I know he can spend a third night in an awake state hooking up a generator . . . I have ammunition for why he should get off the couch and fix a few things around this place.
My line is ready when he's not moving off his spot on the couch on a Wednesday night in the not too distant future . . . "Uh, hon . . . pretend there's a hurricane in the forecast."
And there the argument will begin!