Tuesday, February 1, 2011
BACK IN THE DOG HOUSE
In any marriage, there seems to be one person who is in the dog house more than the other. In our marriage, I am the frequent occupant of the dog house. It goes in waves. Some weeks I make it through without a scratch and others, well ......it is almost a daily occurrence. Last week, my offense was so severe, that I headed out to the dog house twice.
I had been invited to play tennis with a group of women last Wednesday morning January 19th, from 8am to 9:30 at the Wilton YMCA. My husband also had to leave the house early to work ( directing a show) not for recreational purposes. I had arranged for our younger son to go to the neighbors at 8:15 am to play before school. Normally, my husband would take the car that was outside and I would take the garaged car that required no de-icing. Feeling mature, I opted to take the outside car (named Rosa - 2003 Honda Odyssey) and left the inside car Bob ( 1992 Honda Odyssey) for my husband.
Feeling confident in my generosity, I drove off to my tennis match. My tennis match was going along swimmingly, until my husband strode across the court with purpose at 8:55 am. It doesn't look good and I go over to him with trepidation. He asked quietly if ," I have the keys to Bob." Apparently, he had no keys for our car Bob and was wondering if I did. Immediately, it struck me that not only did I have my set of keys for Bob, but his set as well.
I was not picking up my cell phone and the YMCA was not giving messages, so driving over was his only option to secure the keys to our car Bob. How did he get there? My neighbor (where my younger son was supposed to go) offered her car. So my husband and son walked to the neighbor's home, de-iced their car and set off for the tennis courts at the gym.
And so there he was striding away after taking both sets away from me. No kiss, no good bye, nothing. I felt like an officer being stripped of her rank. It brought me back to a time last summer, when I apparently had both sets of keys for the car and I was at the baseball field at East Side Rec. My phone again unreachable, my husband had no choice but to ride his bike to the baseball field to retrieve the keys. It was the first but not the last time, that my husband strode across an athletic field with purpose to search my pockets and back pack.
After leaving the tennis court, I called my neighbor several times to gage my husband's mood while he was at her house borrowing the car. What did I have to look forward to when my husband came home? There was no answer after two phone calls and I was left to wonder about his mood upon his return.
After residing in the dog house for two days, I found myself on Friday on the very same court that my husband had strode across on Wednesday. AND - I was there playing tennis with my husband, the helpful neighbor and another friend was the fourth partner. At the end of our game, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring up Wednesday's antics with several of the key players present. My husband winced as I started to tell the story and started to make his way off the court. I couldn't help but notice that helpful neighbor seemed non-plussed by our story: and here's why.
Helpful neighbor's family key stories way surpassed ours. Apparently, her husband had on several occasions taken keys to Albany. Not Wilton - Albany. Well - my sin paled beside that one. A second story outshone the first. Friendly neighbor and husband had flown into Stewart airport (exit 17 south of us) on an evening flight. Her husband had somehow misplaced the car keys forcing them to get a hotel room overnight and contact a locksmith in the morning. Wow! My star was rising but unfortunately my husband was unable to witness it and hear these stories first hand. Our fourth tennis partner and I were in awe of the strength of the helpful neighbor's marriage. Could our marriages have survived such key mishaps?
On the drive home from the tennis court, I relayed helpful neighbor's stories to my husband. He seemed mildly impressed and rightly so. The next day when he went to take our car Rosa to his director job, she wouldn't start. My younger son had left the light on in the car the day before and worn done the battery. Who was the parent in charge? You guessed it. Back in the dog house.
Feel free to comment with family/key stories of your own.
Diane Lachtrupp Martinez