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 It was over this gas can.
Here's a little background: As I've mentioned before, the typical gender stereotypes are somewhat reversed in my house -- he's the ultra-supportive, sensitive homebody who remembers birthdays and anniversaries, hangs up his wet towels, likes to cook, and loves to shop. I'm funny and throw my underwear on the floor, which as you can see, makes it an equal partnership.
Actually, I know many women are reading this and thinking I hit the spouse lottery. It's true except for the fact that, if indeed I won any kind of real lottery, the money would be completely blown within a year on radio-controlled airplane parts and the latest weight loss miracle, as my sweet husband has a passion for both. The miniscule utility room in our house contains a washer, dryer, 350 boxes of unused Medifast meals, 14 bottles of Acai berry liquid metabolism supplement, a case of Wu-Yi weight-loss tea, and 32 propellers in various sizes. And a jar of garlic salt.
I, however, prefer to spend our money on more substantial things, such as a weekend drinking with my girlfriends at the coast. I'm sure those memories will be worth a fortune as soon as they come back to me.
So yesterday, I was headed into the guest room and almost tripped over two brand new red plastic gas cans. I knew they were recent purchases because unlike the FOUR OTHER GAS CANS we have in the back yard, these had a green lever on the spout.
"Hey honey?" I called. "Where did these come from?"
My loving husband stepped into the room. "I bought 'em yesterday. They were on sale," he said proudly.
"But...we already have FOUR OTHER GAS CANS," I sweetly pointed out.
"Why do you always do that?" he said.
"Do what?" I asked carefully. Apparently, I'd just stepped into a minefield cleverly disguised as a mundane domestic conversation.
"THAT," he spat. "Always question everything I do!"
"I don't question everything you do, hon, but since we already have several serviceable gas cans outside, I think it's reasonable for me to ask why you bought more," I said with a smile. I thought that maybe by treading lightly I could avoid the twenty-minute countdown of my greatest marital hits faults. Guys reading this are laughing about now--they know it was already too late.
"Because it made me happy, that's why!" He yelled, storming out of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, I was still sitting on the bed with my mouth open, trying to draw a figurative line between the purchase of gas cans and personal happiness and wishing there were some doughnuts in the house. Lucky for me, my husband is the peacemaker, and came back to explain. "You always spill gas on the mower and the edger when you're filling it," he said. "These gas cans have a lever that lets you cut the flow so you don't spill. See?" He picked one up to demonstrate.
"So why didn't you say that in the first place?" I asked.
"Because just once, I'd like it if you trusted my decisions about stuff without questioning them all the time," he said. "I didn't ask why you spent $200 in booze and chicken fingers in Lincoln City last weekend, and these were only $4.99."
And it's a good thing he didn't, because I don't remember why -- but I do know it made me happy.
Posted: Monday, Mar 29 2010 at 12:03 PM
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