Charlie come home from work the other day, and I could tell straight off, he had some sort of bee in his bonnet.
“What’s a matter?” I ask.
“I’m gonna mow the lawn ‘fore supper,” he says, storming out the door and letting it slam behind him.
“OK. Sounds good.”
Now, in the early years of our marriage, I’d try to get Charlie to tell me what was bothering him. I’d hug him, you know, wanting to make things better. Frankly, all that did was make him feel smothered. Then, I’d end up as miffed as he was. Nowadays, I give him a wide berth, let him work through whatever it is at his own pace. I know when he’s ready to talk about it, he will.
So, I put dinner on hold, and fix myself a little salad to tide me over. And okay, some cheese and crackers might have been involved, but I plead the fifth on that one. While Charlie tears around the yard on his mower, getting his ya ya’s out, kill a little time on Facebook and skim through the latest AARP magazine.
An hour later, I see him drive the mower into the shed, and I hop to. Supper was pretty much pulled together, table set. I crack a Bud and put it by Charlie’s plate.
Charlie bursts in, kisses me on the cheek, washes his hands, and asks me the usual, “What’s for supper?”
“Oh, some of that leftover BBQ chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob.”
“Sounds good,” he says, easing into his chair. “I’m hungry as a horse.” And boy, was he ever. Had two ear of corn, extra potato salad. I had a smaller portion than usual because of all that “salad” I ate.
Once he’s full, Charlie starts in. “So, I go down to the town hall to register the truck, right? It’s what? 2:30, 3:00? Middle of the day, and Town Hall’s not open. Third friggin’ time I’ve tried to get ‘er done!”
“Budget cuts. I think they’re down to a skeleton crew.”
“I guess. I’m looking at the hours on the door. You gotta be kidding! 10:00 to 2:00 on Thursdays?”
“Tell me about it. The other day, I dash into the post office on my break to buy stamps and Carolyn was closed for lunch. I’m thinking maybe she should take her break some other time of day because a lot of folks can only get there during their lunch hour. Well, might as well renew my library book, you know, because I still had a few minutes until I had to be back to the A&P. I go over there and guess what? Sadie must have been having lunch with Carolyn, because the library wasn’t open, either. Finally, I just give up. Their hours are whacky.”
“Yeah, and don’t get me started on the transfer station. Used to be open Tuesdays, right? Tuesdays and Saturdays. Now it’s Wednesday afternoon and Friday morning, something like that. It’s screwy. They must have meetings to see how hard they can make it for the rest of us.”
“I know,” I says. “Thank goodness the Dairy Queen has regular hours. You want to go get a Peanut Buster Parfait?”
“Well, purely for medicinal purposes.”
“Absolutely, doctor’s orders. But let’s hop on it before they close!”
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Closed for Business