A few days ago, I was putting on a coat and noticed a thread caught in the zipper. I moseyed over to the kitchen, grabbed a pair of scissors, and started to cut it off.
“Hang on,” Tara said, mid-snip. “Let me take care of that for you.”
I thought I had the situation pretty well under control, but thinking my wife was just being sweet, I shrugged my shoulders and tried to pass off the scissors. She brushed my hand aside, reached into the junk drawer, and withdrew a lighter. One of those long multi-purpose push-button Bics, the kind you use to light candles without burning your fingers. I wondered WTF was going on here.
“WTF is going on here?” I asked.
She was so focused on the task she paid me no heed. Got a flame going on the lighter and touched it to the thread.
“Whoa!” I shouted. “Hey! Ow!”
I’m not sure why I said ow, because she hadn’t burned me or anything. Yet.
“This is a much better way of getting rid of threads,” she explained, and then proceeded to find several more on my coat and set them ablaze.
“It’s also a pretty good way of setting me on fire!” I replied, pulling back. “How bad are you going to feel if I end up a pile of ashes on the kitchen floor?!”
I can’t swear to this next part, but it looked like her eyes shifted furtively to the cabinet in the corner where we store the broom and dustpan.
My wife kept ignoring me and trying to set me alight. Even after I told her she got all the loose threads, she started lifting up my arms, examining my sleeves, doing an all-over inspection. I have no idea what she was thinking. I guess it really is a thing, but why play Russian roulette with a lighter? The scissors worked fine!
Never trust a sock-shoe-sock-shoe person is the moral here.
By the way, Tara’s boss reads my blog. After the whole sock-sock-shoe-shoe thing, she asked if we really have conversations like that or if these posts are more for entertainment.
“This is what it’s like in our house all the time,” Tara assured her.
Who could make this stuff up anyway? Truth is always stranger than fiction!
We’re required to complete quarterly safety courses at work. These used to be in person but are now mostly videos. Some are more useful than others: bloodborne pathogens and HAZCOM aren’t huge concerns in the marketing department, but ergonomics and cold weather safety were interesting and potentially helpful.
There was even a fire safety course last fall, so I’ll know what to do if/when Tara sets me on fire next time.
The only drawback is, these videos make me paranoid about all the bad things that can happen to me at work. Thank god we don’t have a vending machine that might tip over and crush me, but I could still trip on a cord or tweak my back lifting a carton of paper. As illogical as this sounds, because I’ve never shared a needle, am tattoo-free, haven’t given birth to a baby, and never once donated an organ, today I convinced myself I have Hepatitis C just because my joints were a little achy.
Here’s hoping the next batch of courses cover less scary topics, like active shooters and tornado safety.
It’s been crazy cold here all week. Thursday morning, we woke up to a temperature of -5°. Which means most of that snow we got last weekend is still around.
I joked to Tara that I must be developing poor circulation in my advancing years, because the cold has felt extra unbearable this week. But then again, maybe that’s because it’s mid-March now and it should be 25-30 degrees warmer this time of year. I think I’m just psychologically cold.
Call it brain freeze.
Change is comin’ though. It’ll be in the 50s and 60s starting tomorrow. Spring’s right around the corner, kids!
Have a great weekend and avoid open flames.
Mark My Words 
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