New Thoughts on Words
Aging & Attitude
Mr. Wonderful, my husband of 41 years, walks into the kitchen and asks, “Have you seen that what-ch-ma- thing?”
I know exactly what he is asking about because he has on glasses and is holding a plastic tube of wood glue.
“You know that who-GA-ma-call-it you wanted put back.” He says stammering and shaking his head; eyes focused on a ceiling corner in an attempt to retrieve the information.
I enjoy his sputtering, because early he yelled at me, “You’re always right, you’re right, you’re right, but you can’t make me do it.” After a discussion on health became a fist fight about right or wrong.
Now, his stretched out slippers let his toes hang over the sole, so they smash into the floor molding. He hip hops about, flamingo style, scrunching his face like a shriveled prune and swearing, shit, shit, shit, but gets no sympathy.
Then he blurts out the real issue, “Why can’t we have a junk drawer?”
Yes, you heard right, we do not have a junk drawer. I am philosophically opposed to the concept and wonder why people accumulate items, they do not want and have no need for, useless items, in a kitchen drawer.
“Why would we need a junk drawer, we have somehow managed for forty years without a drawer of unwanted rubbish.”
“Marshal says every man needs a junk drawer, all the guys have one, I’m the only one who doesn’t.”
I get it, that the junk has possibility. It’s too good for the garbage and might some day have a use, or kept just in case.
“So Mr. Wonderful, if you had a junk drawer, what would you put in it?” I ask.
“The who-Ga-ma-call-it I’m looking for, golf balls and golf tees, I don’t know, STUFF!” He answers.
“Don’t you keep golf balls and tees in your golf bag? And the what-ch-ma-thing is in your tool box.” I reply.
“You’re right, you’re right, I hate it when you’re right!”