My Wife is Crazy
...and that was the day I realized that my wife was insane.
What? I have to start over for the latecomers? Dammit. Don’t say I never did anything for my audience.
Spring is upon us, as you may have noticed (unless you’re from the southern hemisphere, in which case your seasons are screwy). Now that the snow has finally decided to melt, the insects are beginning to crawl out of their winter slumber.
Over the past few nights, I’ve found half-inch long beetle-ish insects crawling around the house. Not being an entomologist and lacking the motivation to do the research, I can’t identify them. For the purposes of this story, we will refer to them as nondescript bugs.
So what do I do with captured insects? Well, I’ve got about a dozen hungry tarantula mouths to feed. Heaven knows it costs me one, maybe two dollars a month to provide them with food. Naturally I’ll use any free source of tarantula food I can find. If I see a menu item walking up the wall, by golly, I’m going to grab it.
For reasons I cannot fathom, my wife is filled with sympathy for the bugs. On each occasion, she asked me not to feed them to the tarantulas. She is concerned for the well being of these insects. I should point out, though, that her empathy is extremely asymmetrical and does not extend to all creatures. She gets bent out of shape when I try to feed beetles, earthworms or kittens to the tarantulas, but when it comes to superworms or crickets, she doesn’t mind so much.
But that’s not why she’s insane.
This evening, I caught another one of these bugs. As per usual, she asked me not to feed it to a tarantula, and, as usual, I scoffed at her. Then I hatched a fiendish plot to test her dedication to this insect who she doesn’t even know that well.
“Fine,” I said. “If you kiss the bug, I’ll let it go.”
“Do you promise?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“I’ll kiss it on the back.”
“No! I demand a mouth-to-mouth kiss, or else it’s going to the tarantula.”
So she did. She did it a second time when I protested that I didn’t think she did it with enough feeling. Being an honorable person, I kept my part of the bargain and tossed it out the window. For all I know, it was snagged out of the air by a bat as it fell, but that’s my problem.
The upshot is that I’m married to a crazy person. She would say the same thing about me, but at least I’ve never kissed a bug.
Not on the first date, anyway.
What? I have to start over for the latecomers? Dammit. Don’t say I never did anything for my audience.
Spring is upon us, as you may have noticed (unless you’re from the southern hemisphere, in which case your seasons are screwy). Now that the snow has finally decided to melt, the insects are beginning to crawl out of their winter slumber.
Over the past few nights, I’ve found half-inch long beetle-ish insects crawling around the house. Not being an entomologist and lacking the motivation to do the research, I can’t identify them. For the purposes of this story, we will refer to them as nondescript bugs.
So what do I do with captured insects? Well, I’ve got about a dozen hungry tarantula mouths to feed. Heaven knows it costs me one, maybe two dollars a month to provide them with food. Naturally I’ll use any free source of tarantula food I can find. If I see a menu item walking up the wall, by golly, I’m going to grab it.
For reasons I cannot fathom, my wife is filled with sympathy for the bugs. On each occasion, she asked me not to feed them to the tarantulas. She is concerned for the well being of these insects. I should point out, though, that her empathy is extremely asymmetrical and does not extend to all creatures. She gets bent out of shape when I try to feed beetles, earthworms or kittens to the tarantulas, but when it comes to superworms or crickets, she doesn’t mind so much.
But that’s not why she’s insane.
This evening, I caught another one of these bugs. As per usual, she asked me not to feed it to a tarantula, and, as usual, I scoffed at her. Then I hatched a fiendish plot to test her dedication to this insect who she doesn’t even know that well.
“Fine,” I said. “If you kiss the bug, I’ll let it go.”
“Do you promise?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“I’ll kiss it on the back.”
“No! I demand a mouth-to-mouth kiss, or else it’s going to the tarantula.”
So she did. She did it a second time when I protested that I didn’t think she did it with enough feeling. Being an honorable person, I kept my part of the bargain and tossed it out the window. For all I know, it was snagged out of the air by a bat as it fell, but that’s my problem.
The upshot is that I’m married to a crazy person. She would say the same thing about me, but at least I’ve never kissed a bug.
Not on the first date, anyway.