Men are oblivious, especially if it concerns something they believe they can check off their mental list as being something “the wife” handles. They just toss that little item right out of their brain cells.
Because I sometimes write about Dearly Beloved’s foibles (precious as they are, you understand) I’m posting this one especially for him. He can see he’s not The Lone Ranger.
I’m writing about someone else’s husband.
My friend Beanie’s husband is a hoot. He usually has a twinkle in his eyes and drops humorous remarks with such a soft, deadpan delivery that I’m sometimes not sure it’s okay to laugh. This is not the first time I have written about him and I believe there will be more material if Beanie will keep ratting him out.
Recently Beanie and Hoot attended a holiday dinner party at the home of their son’s in-laws and Beanie, thoughtful guest that she is, took along a hostess gift: a lovely soap dish made by a local potter and a handmade, natural, all-organic bar of soap.
The hostess opened the gift and exclaimed over it, then set it aside on a table as she continued preparations and moved about, talking to her guests. A bit later, as everyone continued to chat before dinner, Hoot caught Beanie’s eye and beckoned.
He gestured toward the soap in its pretty dish and confided, “That is the worst cheese I’ve ever tasted. It’s like paraffin!”
Beanie felt her eyes bobbling around in her head.
“That’s the PRESENT we gave to them! You ATE it???”
“Not exactly,” he told her. It had tasted so bad that even with his excellent manners, he couldn’t bring himself to swallow it.
Beanie, completely taken aback, wondered aloud what in the world the hosts must think.
She needn’t have worried.
Turns out that the host had provided the cheese knife.