I swear it wasn’t my fault.
Like most veteran husbands, whenever my wife gets mad at me, I almost always say, “It wasn’t my fault.” It’s like how in prison nobody is ever guilty.
There are those rare occasions — like when I almost ran over my wife — that it might be my fault, but those are few and far between. I’ve mentioned almost running over my wife before. Several years ago, we were getting ready for a trip to Emporia, Kan. It was the weekend after Thanksgiving, and it was cold and snowy. I was in the car getting ready to back out of the driveway. Emma, our now 15-year-old daughter, was sitting in the back seat, and my wife was waiting for me to back out.
Well, I thought that’s what she was doing. One second she was standing in the driveway, and then she wasn’t. When I didn’t see my wife in the driveway, I started backing up. Then, all of a sudden, my wife reappeared, almost as if she had fallen and then painfully struggled to her feet in order to avoid being run over. As it turns out, that is exactly what happened.
Looking back on the incident, I guess I can see my wife’s point. She falls on the ice and hurts her leg, and then, instead of coming to her aid, I almost run her over with our car.
Gee, you make one mistake ...
But on Monday morning, it wasn’t my fault.
I wasn’t the one who made the roads icy. I wasn’t the one who didn’t cancel work at my wife’s place of employment.
So it wasn’t my fault that, while I was sitting in our living room reading the paper and drinking coffee, my wife was busy trying to load her car for work.
“What’s wrong with the picture?” my wife said as she stood in the living room in her heavy coat with her arms full of work stuff.
“Which picture?” I asked.
Then my wife told me what I could do with the picture.
“I don’t think it would fit,” I said.
It used to be, before I started working from home, that I was the one who had to go to work when the weather was bad while my wife and Emma got to stay home.
In fact, my wife used to beg me to stay home when the weather was bad enough to close both Emma’s school and my wife’s work.
“I can’t,” I would say. “I’m a journalist. I have to work when the weather is bad.”
“Oh please. You’re not a journalist, and you don’t really work,” my wife would say.
My wife is not a fan of what I do for a living. Well, actually, she just doesn’t think what I do for a living is work. I guess I can see that, but is that my fault? I think not.
I think one of the reasons my wife was mad at me was because I didn’t beg her to stay home. My wife spent most of Sunday cleaning out a room in our basement. The room my wife was cleaning is the last room in our house to be remodeled. I figured that if my wife stayed home, when I finished “working” she would try to get me to help her finish cleaning the basement room. So I didn’t beg her to stay home.
Besides, my wife got to stay home from work last Friday. It seems to me that asking for back-to-back days off from work is pushing things. I thought about mentioning that to my wife Monday morning as she struggled to load her car. But I figured that if I did, she would want me to help her load her car, and I didn’t want to do that.
It was way too cold to be outside.
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