sarahb: Burnin' Up For Your Love

February 02, 2004

Burnin' Up For Your Love

Last night, Special Ed came to join me in the shower. Before you get excited, I’ll just go ahead and clarify that while we both seriously dig the marital relations, the shower, for us, is not usually the place where they occur. In the shower we make grocery lists for the upcoming week, talk about the Yankees, inspect unusual new moles on one another’s backs, and just generally gossip. It’s a regular naked coffee klatch in there sometimes.

As we’re wrapping up our household shower meeting last night—“Yeah, thanks for the pointers, Joe. I’ll go work those up and get back to you”—I reach down to turn the water off. Our shower faucet is of the two-knobbed ilk, one for hot water and one for cold. So I reach down and (I know you see this one coming) obviously turn the cold water completely off, leaving us both to get doused in a blindingly rageful stream of boiling water. Except see, I was closer to and facing the faucet and so am only receiving glancing blows of boiling water off my backside; Special Ed, on the other hand, is getting it full frontal. His exit from the shower is blocked because our sink juts out right next to the shower on his end, and he can’t get to the faucet because I’m in the way. And I am paralyzed with, well, with retardation. Special Ed’s screaming “Turn it off! Turn it off!” and somehow my mind registers all the blame for this calamity on the FAULTY PIPES rather than my bungling hands, and resign myself to the fact that there is nothing to be done about all this boiling water except maybe make a really huge pot of tea later on.

So what do I do? To the man to whom I have pledged my love, life, and loyalty? To the man with whom I have sat through Biker Boyz and who has sat through Ken Burns’ Civil War with me? The man who actually once said to me, while I was out of town, that he missed having my feet in his lap? Well, obviously, I bail. I get the fuck out of there and leave my sweet husband to perish, melting into a little blue-eyed melted man.

But Special Ed has the will to survive! By God, and by Gloria Gaynor, he will! He will not have his life ended this way. No, not this day! And so, The Little Ed That Could revs up his engine and attempts to leap out of the shower. Through the closed shower curtain. And he is not a flexible man. But he is wet and slippery. He took out the shower curtain (and by took out, I mean ripped the whole damn pole down) and somehow ended up on his back on the floor of the bathroom with his lower legs still bent over the lip of the tub. Oh, and also, he was naked.

And I laughed. Oh, I am the worst wife ever invented. But then I laughed some more. And then I leaned over and shut the shower off. Because in the end, neither the shower nor the pipes were trying to murder us by scalding (though that would make a mean Law and Order: SVU). No, apparently there was no plot against us, except for the plot God set in motion when he neglected to provide me with crisis-management skills.

Happy Anniversary, honey. It’s been six months of wedded bliss today. Bet you just can’t wait to see what comes next.

February 02, 2004 | Permalink

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sarahb

Your ass is a spaceship, and I wanna ride.

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February 02, 2004

Burnin' Up For Your Love

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