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Monday, November 1, 2010

A few Husband stories

The woodstove has officially been fired up for the season.  With the overnight lows down far enough to kick the furnace into hyperactivity, it is Time. 


Last spring I scooped out most of the ash. I left some in there because I have learned that a little bit of ash helps the fire take hold. I don't know why that's the case, but that's been my experience. 
Husband, by contrast, is anal very conscientious about cleaning things that can't help being dirty; he felt that the firebox needed more preparation for the incoming dusty, bark-falling-off-in-bits-at-the-slightest-touch firewood. He likes to start with a spandy clean firebox.  He cleaned out every last ash; he might have vacuumed and washed it down with soap and water, I'm not sure. It makes him happy. The fire's caught and the house is warm, and I was not present while he did whatever he did, so I'm happy too. 


I slept my usual odd weekend hours last Saturday night, and before I went back to bed at 5:30am I hauled out the industrial size slow cooker and levered in a hunk of beef that had thawed long enough to need cooking soon. When I woke up at 8:30, it smelled to me . . . like Christmas morning . . . with the cozy waft of roasting meat winding tendrils of brown savory goodness up the stairs. Husband had been up for a while, and as I poured my coffee, I asked him, "What did you think when you woke up and smelled beef cooking?" 
I wasn't hoping for extravagant compliments on my housewifely skills, but I expected something along the lines of, perhaps, "It smelled good."
The sensualist to whom I am married thought for a minute, searching his memory for his exact thought upon waking, and answered, "I smell beef cooking."


I am pleased to report that for some time now I have been able to keep control of the laundry. Not even the odd sock has exited the dryer through the invisible portal to the alternate universe where socks go. In the past much larger garments have vanished. For a while every time I did the laundry, another pair of Husband's jeans disappeared.  Less to put away, but puzzling for me to see his stack of jeans dwindling there in the closet. In frustration one day I asked him where his jeans were disappearing to. He paused to consider and murmured, "Let's see . . . what night did I come home without pants on?"


Husband is beginning to remind me of my uncle Red. One morning at breakfast, my aunt offered more coffee, and as she filled his cup, cautioned, "It's the bottom of the pot."  Red tasted, stretched his lips to a flat line and sucked in air at the corners. "Tastes like it," he said.

13 comments:

Charlene said...

It sounds about right to me; what I remember of being married 19 years ago. SMILE

I really liked your vinettes about the husband.

Hilary said...

He doesn't even do it on purpose, does he?

Von said...

Funny creatures men.Mind you I've been known to vacuum out the firebox but then I'm not normal.

English Rider said...

Being somewhere else is an acquired survival skill in marriage. Sigh!

Pauline said...

Love Husband's wry wit.

threecollie said...

Thank you for my morning smile!

morningbrayfarm said...

Thank you, June, for a comforting post... and one that made me smile. :) xxoo

Carolynn said...

Your husband sounds adorable. The last bit about the coffee made me laugh. The Frenchman is the only person I know who actually likes the last dregs from the coffee pot. He calls it 'crunchy coffee'. *grin* Whatever makes the man happy.

Blessings,
Carolynn

Barb said...

Your Hubby and mine might be friends, June. They could keep things spic and span and state the obvious. Good men both, I'd say...

#1Nana said...

Love the husband stories...especially the no pants one! You are inspiring me. I might have to write a few husband stories myself. I've been visiting the grandchildren for the past week. Left to his own devices, my husband developes some odd behaviors. Unfortunately, cleaning anything isn't one of them!

Friko said...

At least he he a sense of humour!

Lord Wellbourne said...

Ummmm, my outdoor fireplace could use a good de-grunging. You have to love those guys who are all-- unknowingly--vying for the understatement of the day/stating the obvious award. My brother would be a stiff competitor.

@ly said...

Men....can't live with them....can't live without them....gotta love them!