the tie incident.

It’s 6:30 AM and I’m already blogging? Here’s why. At 5:28 AM Tim comes stomping into the bedroom, flash light in hand because he’s trying not to wake me; his mutterings undecipherable. He’s already been up for a while and as I glance at the clock I see that he has to leave in something like three minutes to meet the guys to go to work. I’m still refusing to let my brain fully wake up as I try to process the reason behind his need to tear the bedroom apart at this hour. He’s looking under the bed, in/on/around the desk, in the closet. Back in the kitchen I can hear him open and close the dryer.

I’m awake enough to know that he obviously can’t find something.

He’s back in the bedroom, and in that half-annoyed-but-not-really-annoyed-still-half-asleep kind of way I ask him the inevitable “what are you looking for.”

“I can’t find my tie,” at which I don’t respond because initially I assume this is a problem he can solve himself. And then – more to himself then to me – “where the hell is it?” and then “watch your eyes.” And, before I realize that this latest comment is actually directed at me, and before I can process the need to actually shield my eyes, the bedroom light comes on. Well, I’m awake now.

I ask “is it in the washing machine?”
“No,” as he’s back in the closet, fully tearing it apart.
“Is it in your bag?”
“No.”
“Did you leave it in the car?”
“No, I had it in my hand when I came in the door last night.”
“Don’t you have another tie?”
Yah, but I only have one clip.”
“Does someone else have another one you can borrow?”
“No.”
“And, it’s not in your bag?”
“No,” at which point I’ve given up on sleep, and I also know that he’s hoping I get up to help, but doesn’t actually want to ask me to get up and help, so I get out of bed to help. My initial thought is to check all of the places he’s already checked – because, well, I don’t really know why, but this just seems logical. So, the first place I check is in his bag.

I walk back to the bedroom. There are now socks strewn all over the place.
“Tim?” He turns around.
“Here.” As, I hand him his tie.
“Where was it?”
“It was in your bag.”

And so here I am, unable to get back to sleep at an hour that I haven’t seen since, well, since I actually had a job, and I’m blogging. And instead of asking all the obvious questions about how his tie could actually be in his bag when he so definitely thought it wasn’t, I’m instead asking myself how it’s possible the government can issue a person two ties and only one tie clip. How much sense does that make?? They really can’t afford two clips? Seriously? Seriously!

Seriously.

Back to bed.


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One comment

  1. Ah, Grasshopper, you have passed another relationship milestone (similar to a kidney stone, yet with a pungent irritation all its own). Congratulations!No, seriously, didn’t Nov. 4 rock? My neighborhood was all car horns and fireworks. (Though you’re entirely right about Gay Rights. As John Shaw said of the gay-marriage bans, “What is WRONG with people?”) I miss you, miss knowing you’re in Portland. It’s raining a lot here, now. John, Wil and I were in NYC over the weekend, with John interviewing at Lang at The New School. My baby’s all growed up. And he got into Shimer in Chicago. Woot!xo

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