A little background is probably in order because right after my wife, Eileen, and I got married we had an opportunity to spend a week at a remote fishing camp in northern Ontario. While I had enjoy fishing since childhood I also understood that the word "remote" meant no heat, no electricity, no water, and no indoor plumbing. My wife, on the other hand, had never been exposed to these things. Nevertheless, I had offered her no explanations and when I mentioned going fishing and told her that we would have to get her a pair of hipwaders, she had no objections. A couple of days later when I got out a couple of my outdoor outfitter catalogs and we found some boots in women's sizes her main focus was what color they came in. I told her that it would be green, brown, black, or camo and when after seeing the price she mentioned that she would rather spend the money on a nice pair of heels. After some cajoling Eileen finally agreed that black would be the most versatile and put the conversation out of her mind not evening trying them on once they arrived.
Now we need to fast forward more than 30 years. And before reading any further I should also say that nobody in this story is under the age of 18 nor is there any manner of abusive behavior demonstrated or discussed. So enjoy.
Here is my story and I'm sticking to it.
I have an office at home that over the years I managed to have turned into my own private space that my wife calls my man cave, but that is not actually accurate. A man cave normally has a big screen TV, a full bar, and most often even a beer tap. Instead, mine has a massive ornate antique desk with a newer credenza and a computer table that while functional hardly coordinates with the desk. One wall is covered with a built-in bookcase: the other wall, a comfortable leather sofa. It is definitely designed for work rather than play, but I would be disingenuous if I did not admit that I really enjoy spending as much time there as I dare.
Several months ago, it was my birthday and my wife, Eileen stopped by to bring me a most-welcome steaming fresh cup of coffee. After putting it down on my desk she leaned over to give me a birthday kiss, tongue and all I might add.
"Thanks, Hon, I needed that," I said.
"The coffee, the kiss, or the tongue?" she replied with one of her characteristic giggles.
"All of those, but especially the tongue!" I replied teasingly. Eileen and I have always had one of those relationships where if we aren't teasing one another someone is unhappy about something.
She looked at the wall over the credenza noting that my framed undergraduate degree, two master's degrees, and professional engineer's license were proudly on display along with the certificate of induction into my undergraduate fraternity and the engineering honor society.
Let me just interject something most important at this point. This encounter was so far so good because normally Eileen cannot restrain herself from wanting to either reorganize or otherwise radically make every attempt to redecorate my workspace. This little habit just drives me crazy because I just happen to like it as it is plus to me everything is laid out in a very logical manner, and I can find whatever I'm looking for.
"Do you like these forest green walls?" she asked as I took a sip of the hot coffee and looking around the room.
"I do. It gives my office a nice cozy feeling," I replied suspecting that this conversation might not end too well, as was the case with several of the previous ones.
"It is just that they are so dark. To my mind this room Is anything but the bright and cheery style that it should be."
"That is the reason that I have the two lamps plus the three can lights in the ceiling that, I might add, are also on dimmers for a reason," I responded knowing that she and I have had this discussion several times before, the most recent being in the past week. Eileen apparently has some decorating ideas in mind and often won't let go until I capitulate.
Eileen began perusing the bookshelf and I already knew what she was thinking. Sure enough, out came the famous line, "Do you really need to use all these books? Some are so ancient that their pages are yellowing. Now what's this book, Modern Soil Testing and Analysis Techniques? What an academic-sounding title. Who are they trying to kid? Is this a manual for how to go digging in the dirt?"
"Yup, that's exactly what it is. I might add that both of these are real page turners, too," I said jokingly albeit with a straight face.
Nevertheless, she read some other titles aloud. "Environmentally Responsible Dredging and Port Construction. That has to be another page turner, too. Why does that sound like a volume that you used when we were both studying at the University of Cork decades ago?"
"Because it was. You don't remember?"
"I do and with many fond memories I might add. Those were really fun times."
"They were and as I recall it rained nearly every day and you had a lot of opportunity to bond with your wellies, too."
Eileen giggled. "Yeah, I remember a lot more than the rainy weather though. You were quite the attraction then when it came to you wearing your wellies."
"It was a climate where everyone had to have at least one pair and as I recall you had to have had two or three yourself."
