Big self examination going on in my mind. Monday was a crazy, hectic day – you noticed no blog on my site.We were planning a quick trip to a doctor’s appt. early in the morning, then come home to the usual Monday chores. But, as happens occasionally, it turned out different. The doctor ordered a multitude of tests, followed by Xrays, Labs, Phys. therapy, etc. in preparation for Marion’s knee replacement surgery.
Now you think in the midst of all this activity combined with worries I would have my mind on nothing else – not so. We are also preparing for major home maintenance next summer. While Marion is sitting comfortably in his chair, laughing at non- sense on T.V. and, in general leaving the worrying about colors for exterior paint to me (Isn’t that what men are supposed to do)? I look at every house we pass with interest as to the color – what turns me on – never mind that, what would turn on the passers by – that’s what is important – I wouldn’t want to offend any one by shocking them with a lavender house with purple trim. Marion’s only response to my incessant questions is “Honey, if you like to paint it purple, it’s O.K. with me”. Now, most women would be over joyed to have a husband give them carte blanche to whatever their heart desires but this freedom, too, has it’s consequence. If I make the wrong choice who can I blame?
So we are driving around the city in a frantic attempt to meet all these appointments when I spot the house. Here we get into the psychological dilemma. a couple of weeks ago I fell in love with an exterior of a house on “A” St. Came home all exited to tell Marion that maybe that was the one. When I tried to show it to him it was gone. No, we didn’t pass it. It was gone. How could a house just dissappear? “Are you sure it was on “A” St. ? He asked. What an infuriating question. Of course, I was sure. I am always sure of what I say and haven’t I prooven in the last seventy years that I am always right ? I dropped the matter and, again, I am so lucky to have a spouse who is happy to let a sleeping dog lay. Then the house reared it’s ugly (with a beautiful color) head. In the midst of our frantic driving aroud I yelled “There it is”. “Where is what” he answered. What a dumb question. What else could it be but the house color, the all important subject that had occupied my mind for weeks. There it was but with it came the recognition that it was on Midland Ave. Oh, for shame, I had indeed proven myself wrong. That couldn’t be, could it ? I am never wrong. “Sweetheart”, he said with a mischivious grin “Maybe they moved the house – or – maybe it just took legs and moved itself”. WAR. ” Don’t make fun of me, I remember clearly that it was on “A” St.” Silence. All calmed down I said meekly “Well, I guess I was mistaken”. Just as calmly he answered “Well, honey, maybe they painted it – it has been a couple of weeks” he was serious. He was making excuses for me, granted a lame one but it showed his willingness to make an attempt at preserving my integrity.
Don’t we all do this at times ? To protect some one from embarrassment we make up some excuse to keep everything pleasant – and thereby – encourage that person to indulge in their arrogance more. Silently I blamed it on a “senior moment”. When I was younger I insisted on being correct only when I was sure because my memory was intact – or was I mistaken?
Time to take some humble inventory.