By Mike Pound
Globe Staff Writer
JOPLIN, Mo. —
Friday was day two of being snowbound, and we hadn’t yet made a dent in the supplies my wife insisted on buying before the snow arrived.
When it comes to snow, my wife believes in being prepared. Wait, that’s not true. Boy Scouts believe in being prepared. My wife believes in being prepared, prepared and prepared. Basically, my wife believes in being prepared-squared.
Earlier in the week, when my wife first heard that there was a possibility of snow and ice coming, she began to make a list of supplies.
“What do we need to get us through the storm?” my wife asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “We have too much stuff as it is.”
See, in general, my wife believes in being prepared, so every time she goes to any store she buys things to put in our kitchen pantry. You know, “just in case.”
Often, my wife will call me from whatever store she is in to check on our supplies list.
“Do we need flour?” my wife will ask.
“No!” I will say.
“What about dog food?” my wife will ask.
“No!” I will say.
“Cat food? Litter? Eggs? Deli meats? Bread? Paper towels? Hamburger? Hot dogs? Beer?” my wife will ask.
“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! And yes!”
Two hours later my wife will call me from the store.
“I’m in the checkout line. When I get home I need you to help me unload,” she will say.
“But we didn’t need anything,” I will say.
“I just bought a few things,” my wife will say.
When my wife pulls into the driveway she calls me on the phone again and tells me to help her unload the car. Here is what I unload: flour, dog food, cat food, litter, eggs, deli meats, bread, paper towels, hamburgers and hot dogs.
“Where is the beer?” I will ask.
“I thought you said we didn’t need any beer,” my wife will say.
“(Long stream of bad words),” I will say.
Wednesday evening, before the snow and ice started falling, my wife called from the large, 24-hour retail store in our town.
“What do we need?” my wife asked.
“Nothing,” I said and hung up.
I had no idea if we needed anything or not, but I figured whatever we needed my wife would probably get anyway.
Two hours later, my wife called and asked me to help her unload. By the way, my wife never offers to help me unload when I shop. One time, when I asked my wife why that was, she said, “Because you never ask.”
See, I don’t think you should have to ask your spouse to help you unload the car. I’m pretty sure that is one of those things implied in that whole “in sickness and in health” thing.
But for my wife, helping me unload my car is the same as taking out the trash or unloading the dishwasher. My wife doesn’t know how any of those things get done or who does them. She just knows she doesn’t want to do them.
My wife is great at running the dishwasher when it is full of dirty dishes. But so what? Anybody can run the dishwasher. The real work comes in the unloading of the dishwasher.
I have actually seen my wife open the dishwasher so she could put a coffee cup in the dishwasher, stop and ask, “Are these clean?” When I say “Yes, they are. You ran the dishwasher an hour ago,” my wife will say “(Bad word)” and then put the coffee cup in the sink and walk away.
Not that it bothers me or anything.
So Wednesday evening, after I help my wife unload the roughly 4,873 items that she had purchased, you know, “just in case,” I looked around the kitchen.
“Where’s the beer?” I asked.
“I thought you said we didn’t need any,” my wife said.
I didn’t say anything. I just started the dishwasher and went upstairs.
Do you have an idea for Mike Pound’s column? Call him at 417-623-3480, ext. 7259, or email him at email@example.com. Follow him on Twitter @mikepoundglobe.