Things about VC that I never want to forget #12
VC is that breed of (over)smart-alec who can beat you with irrefutable logic and impeccable comic timing
The trouble with reaching milestones is the perspective it brings. I said earlier this month, that 5 years is just a number. And to me, it still is. Shaped like a curly inverted C with cocked ears up, its just a line-drawing I can’t seem to attach more significance to. Part of the reason I balk at the fact that it has been that long, and that we have come so far, is that somewhere not-so-deep-down, VC and I are a couple of giggly children. We’re so quick to regress, breaking into fits of laughter of silly things. Social faux-pas, corny one-liners and idiotic childish things usually have us guffawing till one or both of us snorts.
30+, married for half a decade, half way through adulthood? Pfft!
VC has plenty of obvious, useful skills that are relevant to every day life, but some times it’s the smaller, seemingly inconsequential things that I value so much. Like his ability to drape a blanket over me. It’s simple, no big deal. Unfold blanket, swing it over sleeping person. Done. But VC does it near-perfectly. So its become a chore of sorts. I get into bed, push my blanket towards him and nudge him into getting up to do the honours. Most times he is happily willing, but some times when he is snug and comfortable, completely engrossed in his book, tired after a long day, getting him to get out and cover me is a task.
VC: WHY?! Why can’t you do it yourself some times?
Me: Because you’re good at covering…stuff.
VC: (with an evil grin that makes me wonder about how his annoyance disappeared so soon) But I’m also pretty good at uncovering stuff, you know?
Cue: peals of uncontrollable laughter and tears streaming down my face.
Of the two of us, I’m the one with the eye on our finances, making sure we tuck away what little we can in the name of securing a future of some kind. VC really couldn’t be bothered and it takes a great deal of nagging and sometimes threats of divorce and the like to get him to take me seriously and meet the financial planner.
Me: Meet him already! It’s been pending for 6 months. Or if you don’t have the time, just give me all your money and I’ll invest it. That way, the next time you piss me off I can take all your money and leave you with nothing. Muhuhahahaha!
VC: You don’t get it, do you. Who needs the money? If you leave me, I wont be left with anything anyway.
Cue: Short bursts of stifled laughter on my part. The sort that comes from trying to keep a straight, angry face when your sheepish husband is being a smart alec and distracting you from the serious matter at hand.
Of course no anecdote is complete without a story about how the man drives me up the wall. Of late it has been his growing inability to turn off the lights and fans when he leaves a room. It’s like he constantly operates on the fact that switches turned on are magically turned off, by some invisible pixies, when not in use. And when I say invisible pixies, I mean me, of course.
Me: (violently banging multiple switches — bathroom light, exhaust fan, geyser, bedroom fan, bedroom light — off) Why do I have to keep reminding you?! Pray when are you going to learn to turn things off when you leave a room, VC?
VC: I don’t turn things off, Rere. I only turn things on.
Cue: Exaggerated chuckling from VC, very pleased with himself. Resigned laughter from me, quite helpless about what to do with the boy with irrefutable logic.
The End. Not. There’s more where this story came from.