Back in March of last year, my bloggy buddy Tonggu Mama wrote a post discussing which movie most mirrored her life in high school. I don't remember which one she chose, but I do remember that I, naturally, borrowed the topic for myself and wrote about which movie most symbolized my own life during high school. That post would be HERE. In order to save you the trouble of clicking through, I wrote about Ferris Bueller's Day Off, because...well...why do you think I wrote about it? I didn't actually like sitting at a desk in a classroom so much when I was fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen for that matter. That's on reason I like homeschooling my own kids so much. There's not much desk-sitting going on around here.
This morning I was thinking about what movie I'd pick to portray my life now...and the only title that stood out in my head was Dazed and Confused. But no, that wouldn't do. Mostly because my family and I aren't really into ingesting and inhaling all kinds of illegal substances. But anyway...
So there I was, thinking, and just about to jump into the shower real fast before my sister came over so I could write her resume for her...when my dear, handsome husband called me over to the bedroom window.
Like...I was already about to literally step into the shower, water running, clothes on the floor, kinda thing going on here...
"Hey Babe...you gotta come here and look at this!"
"Yeah, hurry up!"
"But...is it important??"
"Just come here, it won't take a second!"
OK, so it's urgent. Maybe there's a bear eating the broccoli plants in his garden or something...I went over to the window to check it out. And he showed me...
On the walk way.
But it was really important that I pause my shower and come out of the bathroom to observe the dog poop, because apparently it wasn't Lucy's dog poop. There was just no way it could be her poop. Or at least that's what my hubby informed me. Because that poop on the walk way was too big to be Lucy's. Clearly, some other animal (possibly another dog?) had come into our back yard over night...and done it's business on the walk. Some other animal that Lucy didn't bark at. (So it must have been not only invisible but absolutely silent because Lucy barks at dust!) Some other animal that had the ability to silently leap the four foot fence in a single bound. (Since the walk way is just outside not just our bedroom window, but Todd's as well, and we never heard a thing.) Some other animal that didn't have to dig under the gate, and didn't want to stay and have a bite of Lucy's leftover dinner, and then snuck right back out as quietly and as quickly as it came...just so it could poop on our walk way??
Yes, I'm seeking psychiatric help for this man.
And that's when it hit me.
No, not the dog poop.
What hit me was this: My life may not look like a movie anymore, but I'm totally married to a man from a novel!!
And I don't mean a dashing, daring, swashbuckling Scottish Laird from the 18th century, either. Thank you very much. Although he does have red hair like the main character in Outlander, but...what is swashbuckling anyway?
No, the man I'm talking about is the husband from Wifey by Judy Blume. I read that book about twenty years ago and I can vividly recall thinking, "That poor woman!" I mean who would want to be married to a man named Norman who keeps a chart recording how many times the family dog poops on his walk every day?? And yet..here I am. Married for almost 21 years to a man who now finds it urgent to have his half-nekkid wife hang out the upstairs window to look at crap on the sidewalk!
This is what my life has become??