Last weekend, things were a little calmer around the apartment. We are still getting ready for the move to our first house (Project Homeowner: less than two weeks away), but the busy-busy rush-rush feeling we’ve had over the past few weeks is slowing down. The down time gave us a chance to wash clothes on Saturday instead of Sunday night. We also got to avoid the all-to-common clothes never getting folded because it got to0 late – living out of laundry baskets – where exactly is the shirt I’m looking – I think I don’t have a single matching pair of socks anywhere scenario that seems to happen once in a while. But… since it was Saturday, there was also no rush to get things done early in the afternoon – we were still washing clothes late into the night.
We also decided to take advantage of the quiet time to watch a movie. As the movie proceeded, I remember that I still needed to take the load of towels out of the washing machine and move them to the dryer. (Turns out dry towels are convenient to have when a person is trying to dry off after a shower.) I made a little note-to-self to pause the movie at the next good stopping point to go do that.
Just as a scene in the movie was wrapping up, some rather unladylike noises could be heard emanating from the person sitting next to me on the couch. The timing was perfect to make a big show of stopping the movie and making my escape from the area to go switch loads of laundry and leave Rhiannon sitting on the couch.
She forgot that I had mentioned I needed to take care of the towels earlier and assumed that I was really just getting away from her. I guess I really can’t blame her, since that is what I acted like as I was leaving. When I came back to the couch to start the movie again, she had tears streaming down her face.
Great – now she’ll develop a complex about making any improper noises around me and never let me forget the time I ran away from her for the rest of my life. (At least we don’t have children – what a way that would have been to ruin a Mother’s day weekend).
I got her some Kleenex and helped her dry her tears and apologized profusely for leaving in the manner I did and tried to explain that I really was just going to dry the towels and it just happened to be a coincidence everything happened at that moment. You believe me, right? Through the tears she was shaking her head no – I took this to mean that she was telling me she didn’t believe me and would never forgive me - sleep on the couch for the rest of your life – type scenario.
When she finally gained her composure enough to talk again, she let me know that she had just been trying to get one tear for a joke, kind of like I left in a joking fashion, but once the first tear got out, all the rest just came and she couldn’t stop at that point.
I’m not sure where she went to get the emotion for the tear, but I think it was a little deeper that either of us would have liked. Or her emotional faucet is just a little leaky. Leaky faucets need dry towels – in the end, I was just trying to help after all.
(And I didn’t even have to sleep on the couch.)