Thursday, December 8, 2011

I just shake my head and smile.

I absolutely adore my wife, but... sometimes I just have to shake my head and smile. I am a writer. I don't leave home very often and I'm usually in sweatpants and a tee shirt or flannel pajamas. I may or may not have brushed my hair or made an attempt to look anything but frazzled and overly caffeinated. I do take daily showers, but I can maintain that crazed writer look for weeks at a time, venturing out of the house for short periods and only if absolutely necessary. A ball cap and a jacket is all that need be added to the ensemble if I am forced to go to the store. I am not above wearing my house shoes to the Seven-Eleven when I run out of coffee at three in the morning.
Today, I had to see my new accountant. I actually got dressed, did my hair, and put on make-up. I even wore real clothes. I looked half-way decent for the first time in months. It felt good to be out and about. I saw a few people I knew, who commented on my appearance favorably. I was feeling good about myself.  When I got home, I did not change back to the "uniform," as it is affectionately known. I waited for the wife to come home from work.
She came in and went about removing her professor persona, chatting casually, and blessing the stars that one more semester was over. She made no comment on my effort to not greet her at the door wearing the same thing she saw me in this morning. I really didn't expect her to. She's not too good at picking up on subtle things. I mean, I was straight and chased her, the lesbian, for a week before she noticed I was blatantly hitting on her. So, I'm used to having to hit her over the head with a brick to get her attention.
About two hours later, after I had changed clothes, the following conversation took place.
Me: So, did you notice I was wearing nice clothes and make-up, earrings and everything?
Wife: I noticed when I came home. Your hair looked really good, too. I thought about it the minute I saw you.
Me: So, you noticed.
Wife: (Grinning broadly and very proud of herself) Yes, I did. You looked very nice.
Me: Okay, honey, let me explain this to you. The appropriate thing would have been to comment out loud.
Wife: Oh, okay. (The realization hitting her like a ton of bricks.) Sorry, honey, really I am. I guess you'll get me trained one day.
Twenty-four and a half years with her, I should know better. God, love her, I just shake my head and smile.