This notion, however, is foreign to me for the most part. Sometimes though, I see that maybe I’m not the best at Handling Things.This was the case last night.
Ari was cooking dinner, and I was sitting on the couch after a long, hard day of reading blogs and trying to figure out the best way to tie my shoes so that the laces don’t poke me in my shins.
As I’m Unwinding, the smoke detector in our apartment starts going off. It goes off at the slightest hint of smoke, so it is a Constant Source Of Stress for me.
The detector is going off, so I jump up, grab a towel and begin waving it wildly at the detector to get it to shut-up.
For about forty-three seconds. Or just enough time for me to sit back down on the couch.
So I’m back into action. Waving the damn towel. Now Jack has caught wind of the excitement, and decides that jumping at the towel while I wave it is A Good Idea.
Now I’m waving a towel while swearing at the detector and the dog.
Ari, meanwhile, is calmly preparing our meal.
Once again the alarm goes silent. I give Jack a mean look, and go back to my couch.
It immediately goes back on again.
This time, while doing the towel thing, I’m yelling at the top of my lungs to Ari, “Well, I’m not gonna be able to eat! Just stop cooking! Are you done??? Just forget about mine! I’m not going anywhere!!!”
Of course this is happening while Jack is jumping wildly through the air with such glee that I think he might have found Puppy Heaven.
Finally, mercifully, the detector shuts-the-fuck-up for good.
I walk back into the other room, and Ari is gently placing my meal at the table. It is not lost on me that she has been having A Good Laugh at my expense this entire time.
I look at her. She looks at me.
We decide not to discuss it.
It’s usually better that way.