Sally had something to tell me and she did not want me to be mad.
I, too, had something to say to her and I hoped the same.
My something I had to tell her was about my sneakers. About eight years ago I gave up on my manliness and allowed Miss Sally to take over the purchasing of my shoes. I'm not sure if you've ever seen what shoes I usually pick out, but they are awful and she's much better at picking out shoes than me. The last eight years of shoes have been great and Miss Sally deserves all the credit.
Miss Sally bought me a pair of sneakers and at first glance I knew they were not my style. So I said, "These look great!" and took them upstairs. I didn't like them, but since I know nothing about fashion, I assumed they would grow on me after a while.
But I kept my mouth shut.
This past Sunday I was painting in the bathroom while Sally took Ann to gymnastics. I had on my Ohio University sweatshirt that I love. It is very plain and green with Ohio University across the front. Sadly, I forgot I was wearing it and before I knew it, I had paint on the elbows. I ran downstairs and lit it up with spray stain remover. I threw it in the washer and hoped for the best.
When Sally came home I shared my story with her about the sweat shirt getting paint on it and me thinking it was ruined. That was when she said, "Can I tell you something if you won't get mad?"
This was my opening! I knew that if she told me something, I could tell her about the sneakers and we would be even. So I lied, "Of course you can tell me something and I won't be mad." And then I told the truth, "As long as I can tell you something if you won't get mad at me."
Then Sally proceeded to make me mad.
"I don't like that Ohio University sweatshirt on you. I never did. The collar is too high and it makes you look like a floating head."
Ouch. I am very touchy about my big, fat over-sized head.
She said that when I told her I got paint on it, she secretly cheered on the inside.
I said that I wasn't hurt and that I was sorry she felt that way and that I was sorry that HER SENSE OF SWEATSHIRT FASHION WAS WAY OFF.
Then I told her I didn't like my sneakers. But somehow that didn't phase her. Then we both went off to do the things that married couples do on a Sunday night when they are pretending that they are not mad at each other.
So here I sit, in my Ohio University sweatshirt with the paint stains that didn't come out, wearing the sneakers that I never really liked, remembering that Miss Sally is the best wife anyone could ever hope to have because the worst fight we have ever had involved me having a big floating head and a pair of sneakers that maybe have too many stripes on them.
I am the luckiest man in the world. And I wouldn't trade that for hair combs or a pocket watch chain,ever.
I don't get the ending.
Great great post. Sums up what a successful marriage is all about.
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