It took only thirty- nine years of a near blissful marriage, for my husband to steal my personality. He became suddenly sentimental and romantic. He wanted to organize boxes of old photos in put them in albums. He even suggested we make notes to embellish the photos. I immediately checked his forehead for a fever. I am the sentimental one in the family. I felt like he’d stolen one of my best attributes.
When I mentioned this to him, he laughed it off as silly. “Just take one of my attributes and we’ll be even.” I decided his napping attribute would be very attractive, provided I could do it quietly. I fluffed up the sofa cushion and spread out like a princess. My hair rested gently on a new pillow. I liked this napping attribute. I closed my eyes. I drifted off in seconds into a deep sleep.
Hubs stole another of my attributes while I dozed. He made lasagna in the kitchen and I never heard a splat or a sizzle. Not only did he make my signature dish, he improved it!
It was time to even the score. I needed to steal another attribute.
After his delicious meal, I zoned in on his next attribute of interest. I would eat ice cream out of the carton before bed. He has some really appealing attributes. I was feeling very energized, like a new woman; or an old husband, when he arrived with a pot of tea.
This was the last straw. “Next you’ll be listening to Josh Groban! Stop stealing me.”
I know I should have appreciated his effort, but it was too much. He was arranging photos with tears in his eyes and clipping little sayings. Next he improved my famous dish. The topper was his maid impersonation. I was afraid of what would happen to me; if he did me, better than I do me.
“You can’t be me!” I cried.
“Why would I want to be you? I’d be married to myself. One of you is enough in this marriage. I just got tired of looking at boxes of photos.”
“You weren’t getting all mushy like I do?” I pressed for the truth.
“No! I was dating the photos to keep them in order.”
“But you had tears in your eyes, I saw them.”
“That was an allergic reaction to dust, my dear.”
“And I thought I’d surprise you with dinner while you napped on my couch,” he grinned. “I ran to the Greek Deli and got a frozen lasagna. I wanted you to think I made it,.”
“I’m not stealing your attributes.”
“If you bring me the carton of ice cream, I’ll forgive you. Go heavy on the whipped cream, just like you like it. Bring yourself a spoon.”
He’s lucky I love him.