Monday, September 05, 2011

Marriage 301, Lecture 624: Spontaneous trip to regenerate little Nutella supply


So here's a development I didn't expect.

I thought I was going to have a nice week at home, watching movies and Big Bang Theory and eating bonbons and going to bed early while SH toiled in the German salt mines with nothing but one break to go to a German pharmacy to buy me some retin-a, which is what I use to make up for the abundance of sun exposure I got as a child and a teenager when tans were in style and before we knew that they turned your skin into leathah.

I looked so good tan. I glowed. I was golden. My hair would turn the palest of golds and shimmer in the sun and my skin would turn gold + 2. I shone.

And then one day when I was at work - I was a swimming teacher in the morning and a lifeguard in the afternoon for a total of 12 hours of sun exposure a day, I noticed a woman sunning herself by the pool. She was around 40, which seemed impossibly old to me back then and now? Forty is a baby. A baby, I tell you. Oh to have my 40 year old skin and hair back.

Anyhow, I saw this woman and saw her deep tan and saw that her skin looked like the top of my Bass sandals. Except not as rich and lush and shiny.

She just looked dried out.

And she was only 40.

That was when I started to wear sunblock.

Since then, I have become far more vigilant - hats and 85 SPF sunblock with an overlay of zinc oxide and no, I do not care that people stare when they see the white-faced me out "jogging." Who will be laughing when my skin is still unlined and unblotchy and theirs is leathah? I will, that's who.

Back to the trip. SH was supposed to leave on Sunday. Friday evening, he came downstairs and interrupted in during the BBT episode where Sheldon is buying a router for Leonard for Leonard's birthday and can't decide which router, which cracked me up because SH takes about forever to make any kind of technical decision as well, boring me to death about the details.

He told me that there was a good fare using frequent flier miles for me to go to Munich with him and wouldn't it be more fun if I went?

Well yes.

So we dithered because there are the cats and our cat boy moved this summer and our other neighbor, Regina, moved this summer and who is going to feed the cats now on 36 hours' notice? And I had tomatoes that were getting ripe and still had eight ears of corn left over from the dozen I bought at the farmers market in Medford and what about the chimichurri I made with all the parsley aunt Rita gave me?

We dithered but then Kristy, my new neighbor, said sure, she'd feed the cats, which is such an enormous favor to do for us. I am assuming that she as a grown woman with a career probably would not be doing this for the five dollars a day we usually pay Tyler. I would be insulted if a neighbor tried to pay me for doing something. I would not, however, be insulted if a neighbor brought me back a very very nice box of chocolates from Munich.

So we had no reason for me not to go so I said sure, get the ticket and I thought, there, that's done. SH is getting the ticket so we can move on with the other things we plan to do today, like [wxyz].

But then I had to participate in the ticket-getting process, which entailed SH pulling up a schematic of the plane and showing me the available seats and noting that the one I had chosen was next to the bathroom and in the last row, which means I would be the last served, and was I sure I wanted that seat? And look, it's not by the window but you leave Detroit at 6 p.m and arrive in Amsterdam at 8 a.m. so there might be something to see. And then he had to call the airline because what if there were some secret seats on his flight so we could be on the same flight over?

That part was not such a bad idea because it would make things easier for us to be on the same plane.

But the seat choosing?

It takes three seconds to choose a seat. That's it. Look at the diagram, say, "Aisle," point and click.

It does not take 20 minutes. Really, it does not.

I love my husband. He is a sweet, wonderful (although sometimes very annoying) man.

But he has to overanalyze every decision. I am concerned about defining the parameters and then finding a solution that meets the requirements.

SH wants to find the perfect solution out of all the options.

Bless his heart.

So after 20 minutes, I had a seat. The same seat I had chosen 20 minutes earlier.

Then SH went upstairs to look for the adapter plugs. Which was its own adventure. Let me just say that I do not lose things. And took an hour.

He came back downstairs. And this is how the afternoon ended:

SH: I guess I need to pack.

Me: Yep.

SH: And take a shower.

Me: Yep.

SH: So we can go out to eat [with our groupon that expires on Monday].

Me: Yep.

SH: And then [wxyz].

Me: Not tonight Josephine. I'm sleeping.

SH: That's OK. We can have [wxyz] in Germany.

Me: German [wxyz]. OK.

3 comments:

The roulettewheelbrain said...

I have a feeling I may be married to SH's doppelgänger! Love your blog BTW, I read it first every morning, starts my day off with a good warm glow!

Jennifer (Jen on the Edge) said...

I love spontaneous trips. I hope you have a great time.

Class factotum said...

Roulette, is your husband very focused and micromanaging? And a fabulous kisser? Engineers make excellent husbands! The focus helps them with [wxyz] and they can fix things. It's not pleasant to watch them fix things, but they do get the job done.

Thanks, Jen! I am not a spontaneous person, so this is a bit stressful for me. But I did a bunch of research while my plane was delayed out of Detroit. I have a plan now.