Wednesday, December 04, 2013

Marriage 601, Lecture 763: The price one pays to dance

SH wanted to have a political fundraiser at our house. I did not. We argued about it and I finally said Fine but I am not doing anything for this event, including cleaning, and I will not stay in the house while it happens.

SH said fine but would I please please please make my Memphis Junior League onion dip for the event. I said OK but that's it.

And of course I ended up setting the table because it's easier to do that than to deal with a stressed-out SH but I extracted promises of reciprocity from him, the main one being that by gosh this winter he was going to take dance classes with me or else you know what.

It was just supposed to be wine and cheese, but not the Good Wine because unlike Jesus, we do not serve the Good Wine to everyone. We are not that generous. So SH had to order Not So Good Wine. I didn't care because I don't drink wine and if I did, I know where SH keeps the Really Good Wine.

He bought some cheese and a few of his political friends said they would bring cheese so that was it.

But then he worried what if someone doesn't drink - what can he serve them?

One friend said diet soda, but SH did not want to have diet Coke sullying the table, even if he wasn't serving Good Wine.

He decided to get sparkling cider. And then we thought about coffee.

Which made him worry. We have several coffee mugs, but he is emotionally attached to them, especially to the Good Mug that he got in Bayfield at the artists shop three years ago when we were on our way to Madeline Island and were waiting for the ferry. He loves the Good Mug and has asked me not to put any silverware in it when it is sitting in the sink because what if one of the cats knocks into the silverware and knocks the mug over and it breaks? That would be so bad. It would lead to the Song of Something Bad Happened with the additional trauma of not being able to fix the problem as is usually possible. This would be the Song of Something Bad Happened And It's Irreversible, which would be a level of drama that I have yet to see.

I said just put out the darn mugs. He hesitated.

But not the Good Mug, I said.

He pulled a few out of the cupboard, but still hesitated.

What do you think is going to happen? I asked.

What if they get broken? he asked.

I laughed. These are your people! You really think they are that klutzy? I am not worried they would break them. I am worried that they would expropriate them or tax them!

He rolled his eyes. He does not think my political jokes are as funny as I do.

Nobody drank coffee.

Someone spilled beer in the living room. And someone I didn't even know asked if he could take some of the leftover cheese home, which I thought was a bit tacky, but whatever.

And now we dance.

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