no more jokes about arsenic
Posted on May 16, 2007
Filed Under marriage, kids, parenting, snark |
In talking to a faithful blog reader and friend today, I ascertained that I have caused some consternation. He made me promise to refrain from posts about poisoning My Better Half if I plan to indulge a prolonged silence immediately afterwards. He worried that I had stewed that marmalade with arsenic and served it with dinner rolls to the entire family. He imagined the entire Madmarriage tribe silenced with orange, sticky sweets. And I laughed a sort of honking fake guffaw in order to hide the fact that I’d been silent with consideration and plotting. He knows me well.
I didn’t dare share how especially close we came to familial obliteration when I discovered that My Better Half had taken ALL the paint cans in the basement to the toxic waste clean-up site this past Saturday. Toxic waste clean-up day is an annual, town sponsored affair meant to encourage citizens to save their paint and batteries and computer innards from poisoning the local landfill. The catch is, My Better Half took EVERYTHING including all the half-filled paint cans that contained little bits of paint I’d used last winter on the hallway, the office, the guest room, the front steps. No matter that all this paint was of the expensive and still useful variety, for some reason he deemed it waste and hauled it off and poured it into a great big vat of smoking poison. No touch ups, no extra trim paint, nothing to apply to staircase walls covered in small, dirty hand prints left.
I also didn’t share the pain and suffering caused by O’s ode to motherhood, opened on Sunday morning. A woman less sure of her worth in the world would have swallowed that arsenic herself after reading his poem:
What is mother?
A mother is fun when she is not busy.
A mother is happy when she is not in a bad mood.
A mother is nice when she is asleep.
A mother is a good lad when she is not talking on the phone.
A mother is sad when I am away.
A mother is very nice when she is not home.
A mother is someone who cleans.
This is my mother.
So, no more arsenic jokes because, truly, it’s feeling a little bit possible these days and, apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.
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