1.18.2006

Television is good for you.

M: See, that’s another reason why I pull the cover all the way up to the top [of the bed, when making the bed], that way no dog hair gets on the sheets.

Q: Shhh, it’s hard to absorb a point when you’re trying to go to sleep.

M: You’re reading.

Q: Okay, I meant you shouldn’t try to prove a point when you’re trying to go to sleep. Good night!

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We went over to Sister’s last night to eat homemade spinach pasta (life’s rough, eh?), and watch a few shows we tragically missed when our DVR thought it would be funny to play Amnesia Victim and abandon all the “record regularly” programming we worked so hard to input. This is why I'm always so cheerful when I pay the above-our-comfort-level Dish/DVR bill.

We watched the Desperate Housewives episode where Gabrielle kisses Tom. For those of you smart enough not to get hooked on this show (all three of you), just know that Gabrielle kissed her friend Lynette’s husband at a party, as a joke, and Lynette did not appreciate the humor. This led to an interesting discussion on the way home last night, in which I admitted that I would absolutely have a problem with someone kissing my husband, jokingly or otherwise. This irritation would apply to any jokester - friend or stranger - and to anyone for whom I felt that romantic bond that can twirl giddily into a streak of raw, immature possessiveness (so: boyfriend, husband, Orlando Jones, etc.).

Monk once again showed his oddball stripes by declaring that his irritation had conditions. For example’s sake, he would not be bothered if, say, Friend A or Friend B kissed me. However! If (pause, pause) Friend C or (pause) Friend D kissed me, we’d have a problem. Not only was it thought-provoking that he clearly had to dig fairly deep into his memory to recall the names of some of my more-absent friends, but also that some posed a bigger threat in his mind than others.

But here’s the belated point: He would not be bothered if I were the one doing the kissing, as opposed to being the one on which the kissing was done. Something about trusting me and my intentions, blah blah blah. One of the delights of being married to someone like Monk is that he is still full of surprises. All these years I thought kissing was at the tip of the off-limits iceberg, turns out I’ve been interpreting the marriage vows incorrectly. I guess I’ve got a lot of Making Up For Lost Time ahead of me. Pucker up, boys and girls.


2 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

Cute post. I got a kick out of it.

11:27 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

Oh did you have to buy a pregnancy test today?

11:27 PM  

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