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Sometimes the best thing that happens is the thing that didn’t happen.
- Hey, I didn’t smash the wineglass!
- Oooh, it looks like those two toenails aren’t going to pop off after all. That’s nice.
- What smells like burning toast? Oh… toast done nice and crispy the way I like it, it turns out.
- Speaking of which, I’m afraid our oven element is dying. Oh. Wait. It appears to work just fine now!
- Whu- whu- WHOA! …caught myself. Phew!
You know what stinks? Being awakened by the plumbers removing the toilet a day early.
You know what really stinks? Having to wake up your houseguest to break the news that there’s no toilet.
You know what’s great? Seeing how your houseguest takes it all in stride and and heads out to the local coffeehouse with you, just so the two of you can pee.
You know what stinks? Having to miss a trip to visit The Fella’s family because the unscheduled plumbers* need someone to lock up after ‘em.
You know what makes up for it? Spending that unexpected free evening with your own vacationing family for one last dinner before they go home.
You know what literally stinks? The rotted subflooring the plumbers tore up.
You know what’s adorable? How carefully they tidied up after themselves, leaving just a few smears of mold.
You know what figuratively stinks? Splashing bleachy water on the floor, then tracking it all over.
You know what’s kinda fun? Putting paper towels under each foot and shuffling around the apartment like a Muppet to clean it up.
* Adding Unscheduled Plumbers to list of potential band names.
The Fella often surprises me with a pint of ice cream. About as often, he picks one up at my specific request. (Somewhat less often, he picks one up even though I specifically asked him not to. Why would I ask him not to? Because I don’t always want it, but I will always eat it.)
Since the corner store rotates flavors randomly, there’s no point requesting a specific flavor. Still, The Fella knows what kind to get me: Chocolate with stuff in, or stuff with chocolate in.
Or pistachio.
We’ve had the “or pistachio!” conversation at least three times now, and here’s how that goes, more or less, every time:
Elsa: Or pistachio!
The Fella: [stops tying his shoes, looks up at me in disbelief] … really?
E: Yes.
TF: …
E: It’s my favorite, but they almost never have it. If they ever have it, I get it. If they ever have it, get it. EVER.
TF: How did I not know this? It’s like I don’t even know you!*
*This last sentence only occurred in the first iteration of this conversation, which suggests to me that subconsciously he does recall it, or he would face the same vivid surprise and apparent horror each time.
This weekend, we had another round of the same conversation, at which time I altered the standing order. From now on, the standing order: chocolate with stuff in or stuff with chocolate in, or pistachio. Even if I have specifically requested “no ice cream,” if they have pistachio, get pistachio. “Pistachio rescinds all other orders.”
A conversation, the nature of which makes me wonder why he seems so happy.
The Fella: I’m running to the store, do y—
Elsa: ICE CREAM!
The Fella: [chuckling] I thought you might! What ki—
Elsa: Chocolate with stuff in or stuff with chocolate in.
The Fella: I thought so! Anyth—
Elsa: Or pistachio!
Elli
Elsa
