The Old Days
Every once in a while, my wife daydreams about what it would be like if we lived during a different time in history. However, her “creative” interpretation of which historical events actually happened when often prompts her to fact-check with me before launching into said daydream. For example:
Wife: When was World War I?
Me: The 1910s.
Wife: Okay, then I think I could live in the 1920s.
Me: You sure you could handle Prohibition?
Wife: Oh, that was then? Never mind. That’d be stupid.
And so this weekend, while savoring a slice of cheese from a Costco platter, she mused…
Wife: I think I could live in the Old Days. They at least had cheese, right?
Me: I guess that depends which “old days” you’re talking about. Like, what time period?
That Bad, Huh?
We need to clean this car. Have you seen the back seat? It looks like somebody’s butthole on a dirty day.
— My Wife
You Make Road Rage So Much Fun
This car needs a better horn. It sounds like I’m stepping on a Rubber Duckie.
— My Wife
Willy Wonka’s Fatal Mistake
I was just about to fall asleep after an exhausting day of twin-wrangling.
They’re both crawling now–not full-on, up-on-their-knees crawling, but they are definitely proficient army-style creepers, swift enough to entangle themselves in dangerous twinanigans if I look away for even a few seconds.
Beside me in the bed laid my wife, whose mind was still apparently very much at work, contemplating important career decisions.
As I approached the threshold of sleep, it occurred to me that upon entering the dreamscape, my arch-nemesis Skeletor would undoubtedly be up to his usual antics, necessitating a DeLorean trip back in time during which I would need to orchestrate my then-teenage father decking that skull-faced a-hole outside the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance in the Castle Grayskull Gymnasium to create just enough of a diversion for me to hurl the Ring of Power into the Goblet of Fire, so that it could be displayed in a museum where it belongs. But just as I was unsheathing my Light Saber, a voice broke the silence, pulling me out of the Gumdrop Forest and back to reality.
The voice was my wife’s.
If I were Willy Wonka, I would have made a cheese factory instead of a candy factory.
If you had found me just then, I would have been dumb. Because I was dumbfounded. “Huh?” Those of you who are Loyal Readers are aware of my wife’s fascinating pillow talk contributions to our marriage.
“Think about it. There would be all kinds of cheese everywhere–a forest of cheese, a cheese river, cheese wallpaper, Everlasting Cheese-Gobstoppers that never go bad. It would be amazing.”
I weighed my wife’s idea carefully, critically, honestly, and came to a crucial decision. “That. Is. Phenomenal.”
“Yeah. Wonka really dropped the ball on that one.”
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If not, the answer may be cheese.