Everyone was mad at me Thursday morning.
My wife was the first person to get mad at me. My wife gets out of bed before I do. She does this because it takes her longer to get ready for work than it takes me to get ready for work.
Basically, what I have to do to get ready for work is to grab some clothes out of my closet, put them on and, voilà (French for “You’re not wearing that, are you?”), I’m ready for work. My wife, on the other hand, has to put some stuff on her face, dry her hair and spend roughly a week in her Limbaugh-sized closet complaining that she has nothing to wear.
To be fair, my wife also makes our 11-year-old daughter Emma’s lunch. Sometimes I make Emma’s lunch, but mainly my wife does. I make sure our dog goes outside and doesn’t eat one of our cats. I also drive Emma to school.
On Thursday morning, while my wife was downstairs making Emma’s lunch, Emma came into our room laughing. Emma told me that she complained to my wife that it was cold in our house. Emma said my wife informed her that it was 7 degrees outside.
“So I said, ‘Really. How do you know that? Did it say it on the news?’ and mom was like, ‘OH I DON’T KNOW’,” Emma said, and then we both laughed.
A few minutes later I went downstairs and walked into our kitchen, where my wife was putting the finishing touches on Emma’s lunch.
“Man, it’s cold in here,” I said. “It must be 7 degrees outside.”
“%$#@,” my wife said, and stomped out of the kitchen.
See, I thought what I said was funny. My wife did not. My wife was not in a laughing mood because she had to get to work early. Funny thing about humor.
My wife doesn’t like it when she has to get to work early. The reason, I think, my wife doesn’t like it when she has to get to work early is because I seldom have to get to work early.
That’s the good thing about being a newspaper columnist: You seldom have to get up early.
In the past, I’ve had jobs that required me to get up early. I didn’t like those jobs. I once worked for a year in a plant that made steel tanks. I had to be a work at 7 a.m. I think that’s when I first decided I wanted to be a newspaper columnist.
I don’t hunt because most of the time, when you hunt, you have to get up very early. The way I figure, if an animal has enough gumption to get up before I do, it deserves to live.
So, Thursday morning, my wife was upstairs busy getting ready to go to work early and being mad at me.
Then Emma came downstairs. The same Emma, who a mere five minutes ago, was laughing with me about my wife.
“Hey, Emma, it’s 7 degrees outside. HAHAHAHAHA,” I said.
“Stop it dad,” Emma said.
Then I started singing a Michael Jackson song. It was the one about that couple making a pact and bringing salvation back.
“Stop it dad,” Emma said.
Turns out Emma’s hair was not cooperating, and as far as Emma was concerned she “looked terrible.”
When Emma’s hair is not cooperating, Emma loses her sense of humor. Especially when someone tries to sing a Michael Jackson song.
So I shut up and a few minutes later drove Emma to school. When I got home our dog, Shilo, was standing by the door. Shilo wanted to go for a walk. I told Shilo it was too cold to go for a walk.
“%$#@,” Shilo barked.
Like I said, everyone was mad at me.
Address correspondence to Mike Pound, c/o The Joplin Globe, P.O. Box 7, Joplin, MO 64802, or via e-mail at mpound@joplinglobe.com.
