The Happiness Series
I am standing in the kitchen and Mr. Wonderful, my husband Bob, walks behind me headed for the garage.
“Can you get me the hack saw?” I ask.
“The hack saw?”
“Yes, that small saw with the black handle. Isn’t that what it’s called?”
“Why do you want a hack saw?”
I roll my eyes to heaven.
I have used the electric knife before and know the cord and blade are in the back of the silverware draw. However, it will be quicker if he brings the saw back with him when he is done doing whatever it was he was going to do in the garage.
Now he stands behind me breathing over my shoulder as I explain.
“If you saw this plastic container in half, I’ll be able to get the rest of the lotion out.”
The plastic bottle has been sitting upside down the past three days, and I have been sticking my pinky finger in the opening then applying lotion to my arms and legs.
Speechless at first, Mr. Wonderful says, “Lotion is on sale at Publix, I’ll go buy some.
“It’s not about the money.” It’s more like . . . . children in China have very dry skin, so eat your green beans. And this lotion has sun screen in it!”
“Okay, so you’re making a statement, you don’t want to be wasteful?”
“Sort of. Is recycling a good choice if a million gallons of water are used to clean the container.”
He interrupts, “Johnson’s Baby Magic is a Bogo (buy one get one free) this week.”
“I feel better using the spatula to remove the dribs and drabs. See it practically fills this jar. It makes me happy.” I look at him and smile.
He smiles back. “Great. So you are on to a new kind of cause.”
“If I wanted a new cause or to protest something, I’d refuse to show my license to have a mammogram?”
“Why do you need a license to have a mammogram?”
“Well, any picture identification. Some type of mammogram fraud. However, I cannot recognize my breasts now that they almost reach the floor. I do not argue.”
“Claudia, how many people would use a hack saw to get the last drop of lotion out of a bottle?”
I roll my eyes and say to Mr. Wonderful, “A bread knife really doesn’t work.”
. . . . just saying