Sometimes, I get the feeling Mr ReloVertigo would prefer to be doing something exciting like gutting fish, rather than listening to my stories. Just this morning I was attempting to relate to him a fascinating account of how current events intersected with my views on certain foreign social and criminal policies. I know, riveting, right?
Me: Honey, remember when I told you the other night about [outrageous condition in some country a million miles away]?
Husband stops in his tracks, about 3 feet (1 meter) from the back door.
The Husband: Yeah.
The Husband is clearly not appropriately engaged in this conversation. Undeterred, I continue.
Me: Well, later that day, there was a news item about [yet another incident of continuing outrage upon my delicate sensibilities]!
The Husband begins to creep sideways toward the door.
The Husband: Uh huh?
Me: Yeah! And I saw pictures of [incredibly unbeLIEVable occurrences that should probably require both of us to immediately fly to another continent and commence solving world problems]!
The Husband’s hand slowly reaches out for the doorknob.
The Husband: Huh.
I realize my spouse is attempting escape, and rather than let him run free, I decide to get the rest of the story out quicker.
Me: Andanywaytherewasaprotestand…
He begins to turn the knob. I question whether he is even listening. Before I even finish my sentence, I simply stop talking.
Me: (sudden silence) Ok.
The Husband: Ok.
He opens and walks out the door!
I guess that answered my question. He wasn’t listening. He was so anxious to get away, he was almost trying not to do the Pee-Pee Dance!
Have I told you I love my husband?
