Open To Interpretation

Before 8am today,  I was sitting on the bed next to a mostly-still-sleeping Sami explaining why I believe that Varissa and Kensington are the same door glass pattern and he was responding to my revelations by forcing air past his vocal cords every now and again but in all the right places. It sounded like hmmm but maybe it was more like um but I know that whatever it was,  he meant to indicate pleasantly surprised agreement with what I was saying.

He went back to sleep and I went off to occupy myself with making a batch of cold red beet soup, watching a Tyler Perry sitcom and using my phone to search for the answer to “How many days until Thanksgiving?”, among other things.

Later on, Sami woke up for real and told me about a funny dream that he had when he fell back asleep. He never once in all of our married life mentioned any dream that he had. He said that in this dream, my mother came to him and wished him a happy Thanksgiving. I should tell my sister about this because she is very much into signs from the other side and is always on the lookout for any little thing that she can mangle into being a message from our parents. This would put her on Cloud 9 for days.

I don’t interpret Sami’s dream like that. I think it was yes a message from my mother (and/or his guilty conscience  because – and I’m just guessing here – he was wanting me to clam up and go away instead of comparing the merits of crystalline glue chip glass vs. chinchilla glass) – but telling him to be thankful that he has a prize package like me for  a wife. I was standing at the kitchen sink cramming cucumber peelings into an empty red beet can and ouching my hand with hot hot tap water and I was doing my best to to rinse 100% of the soap suds off of the dishes with the hot hot water because that is something he is a fanatic about and I wanted to please him so I said that last part about the prize package  out loud to him.

Then he came up close behind me and kissed my shoulder and walked away.

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6 thoughts on “Open To Interpretation

  1. It took me almost 44 years, but finally trained my husband to get up before me and make the coffee. Oh wait, that’s called a 6:15 a.m. tee time. Oh well, whatev….. 😉

  2. Burning your hand with hot hot water while rinsing 100% of soap off of dishes because you want to please him is really what marriage is all about. Try telling that to a 21-year-old newlywed and they’ll think you’re crazy, but as we learn after many years – it’s the little things.

    That was a very romantic anecdote.

  3. As usual, I latch on to a minor detail of your post and expand upon it irrelevantly.

    As someone concerned with immunology, I ask your opinion on all this environmental crap about using warm water rather than hot water to clean things.

    I found my wife using a warm water cycle on the bedding the other day, which prompted me to launch into a lecture about the creatures that share our sheets and pillow cases. I’m not sure she heard me, since she kept right on walking back into the kitchen, there to probably rinse some dishes in luke warm tap water.

    • I am from the boiling with added Lysol category. I run all dishes through the dishwasher on the ultra-hot cycle. The only things I wash in cold water are red sweaters and blue jeans, which don’t get up near my face.

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