What, No Card?

For close to thirty years, I have often said (only partially tongue-in-cheek) that the most important factor in my relationship with my wife, in terms of what has kept her from (a) killing me; (b) leaving me; or (c) killing me and then leaving me, is limiting the amount of time she has to spend with me.  No one knows better than I just how much of an asshole I am.  Most people with whom I have contact on a daily, or at least regular, basis, walk away appreciating how special a person Margaret is and praying to whichever deity is their preference that her shoes are not their own.  

Since March 16, 2020 I have been working "remotely", which is to say I have been working from home.  Margaret has seen far more of me in the past five weeks than she had in the past two years.  A little of me goes a long way.  A lot of me?  Let's just say that the coiners of the expressions "less is more" and "absence makes the heart grow fonder" may not have known me but certainly had me in mind.  

I do my best to stay out of her way during "the work day".  I spend most days holed up in a spare bedroom at the end of the hallway, which we have temporarily transformed into my office.  I was jazzed by the fact that it took me less than two weeks to make it resemble my regular office, which is to say...yikes.  Margaret was, shall we say, decidedly less enthusiastic.  

As the days have stretched into weeks and, now, into a second month,  I have tried to improve as a cohabitant. I pay more attention now than I did at the beginning of this exercise.  For instance, I pay attention to Margaret's television viewing habits, including the number of episodes of Snapped she watches as well as which ones she saves on the DVR for repeated viewing. I pay attention to her Google search history, including her apparently steadily-growing interest in exotic poisons, where they can be purchased, how long they remain in one's system after ingestion, and how traceable they are.  

I pay particular attention to way the right side of her face twitches rhythmically in response to certain things I say, such as "Do you ever think of what we will do when I retire", "What are you making for dinner", and "Do you want to know what I think"?  The whole side of her face moves with the unerring precision of a metronome.  But for the fact that it is more than slightly terrifying, it is a thing of beauty to behold.  

Happy 1st Month-a-versary, Margaret, and thank you for having not yet acted upon the urge to smother me in my sleep. I appreciate it more than you know...

...once I am back at the office full-time, I will send you a text supported by the appropriate emojis. 

-AK