BATTLE OF THE SEXES

 We all drive different … how we slow down, how we speed up, how much distance we leave between our cars and the cars ahead of us at a red light or a stop sign?

My habit has been to slow down and stop about a full length of a car and then close the space by creeping forward. I’m not sure why. I tell my wife that it’s because I’m a safe driver. I really don’t think it’s any safer to stop and creep rather than to pull to a safe stop a few feet behind the other car.  However, I will never admit that to my wife.

The problem is it bugs her and she’s not afraid to say so. My weak excuse bugs her even more and she’s also not afraid to let me know about that. I bite my tongue and continue my evil ways.

However, she has figured out a way to make me change those evil ways. It’s not simple, but then a woman’s mind is never simple. They always figure out ways to trick and manipulate the men in their lives and my wife is the leader of the group. No one else would have the ingenuity to pull off what she has done.

It started when she bought a new car … a Jeep and then decided I also needed a jeep. My thoughts … Why not? I wanted a new car and, and for me, Jeep was the epitome of American made cars. (Just a small side note here to show you how easy it is to fool me. Her Jeep Renegade is made in Italy. My Jeep Compass is made in Mexico or Brazil.)

Now for the rest of the story. I bought the Jeep Compass because she said I needed more bells and whistles. It has 4-wheel drive that I don’t need and will probably will never use but it does have side mirrors that beep and blink yellow when someone is in my blind spot. That’s really neat for someone that has a difficult time turning his head or body.

It also has a gas saving feature. When you come to a stop at a red light the engine turns off and restarts when you remove your foot from the break. Remember how I described my stopping habit and it turned her red? That’s the issue. If I stop like I’m used to stopping the engine stops to save gas but when I remove my foot from the break to creep forward the engine restarts and it will not reset the feature until it gets back up to a 10 mile and hour speed.

So, if I want to save gas (and I do) I have to drive her way. There is no doubt in my mind that she had it all figured out when she suggested the Compass.

When I come to a stop doing it ‘her way’ I mumble sour somethings under my breath.

She has her Cheshire cat’s “I win again” grin.

                                                                                           GSB

 

THE PERFECT UNWANTED GUEST

 

The dream. We all have it. It being to get to a better place. It’s a trait of the human race. Everyone wants something better – a new house – a better job – a perfect mate (scary) – children – children that mind – more money – a great afterlife – the list is endless – our minds can always think of more once we attain more.

I and my wife are no different. Over the years we have dreamed about all those things and have attained some or part of them. For example – children – we have four.

Perfect?  We’re still waiting.

As we got older we dreamed of the perfect home – our perfect home – our definition of perfect.

And, we found it. Nice community – good price – good neighborhood – and, of course we sold high and bought low – perfect.

We sold our old house – as is – someone else’s problems – perfect.

And, with an estate auction, we sold everything – right down to the last dish – no moving costs – perfect.

We got into our car and drove to everything new – perfect.

Of course, now you are waiting for the … “but” – because nothings perfect.

There’s always a fly in the ointment and our fly was a vampire.

Don’t laugh. We didn’t. My wife screamed. I said some unprintable words that I’m sure I’ll pay for on judgement day.

He/she/it was cool as a mountain brook. He/she/it was sitting our brand-new couch with he/she/its feet on our brand-new coffee table eating a McDonalds burger with all of the go withs – fries – ketchup (maybe blood) and a coke.

I guess we should have been happy he/she/it wasn’t smoking a cigar.

He/she/it looked up, wiped ketchup or blood of he/she/its face, licked he/she/its fingers, belched and said, “Welcome to our new home.”

My wife fainted.

I said, “What do mean our home? Our home means me and my wife. Not you.”

Indignant, he/she/It removed he/she/Its feet from our coffee table, stood up and said, “Nada, amigo. You wanted this house – your perfect house – in Texas – on the golf course right in the middle of our migration pattern.

But senior, I travel from Mexico to gorge on the nectar of the Agave plant.

Your perfect home is right where I stay, every year.

And, you cannot interfere with the bat migration. We are very important to the eco system of the desert.”

Stunned, I argued, “Bats drink blood and you’re not drinking our blood. So, get out.”

“Blood? We do not drink blood. We eat fruit. We sip the Agave nectar. So, I will remain here and sleep in your closet. Tonight, I will fly to the Agave and return to sleep here until the nectar is gone. Then, I will return to Mexico.”

“I will lock the doors.”

“Then, I will come down your chimney like, how you say, Santa Clause?” Then he/she/it strutted out the door like it was he/she/its house.”

After he/she/it left, my wife woke up and wanted to know about the Vampire. I explained that there was no vampire and that she had feinted because she was woozy for the long car ride.

That night we sat in the den watching TV, eating popcorn and enjoying a warm fire.

She asked why we had the fire on such a warm night?

I replied, “I just wanted it to be a perfect evening.”

                                                                                                     GS Batty