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The set-up

Published by Wreybies in the blog Ponderings of a Pachyderm. Views: 350

So, this is just a little personal rant.

I'm checking out sandals on eBay last night when my hubby comes into the room and asks what I'm doing. I point out my wish for new sandals and we start perusing the offerings together. He points out a pair that he likes, which I don't because they are the kind that you stick your big toe through a loop and I have a sizable big toe compared to my overall shoe-size; thus, it's rare for such a sandal to work for me. My toe just doesn't fit the loop. I make all of that known. He keeps egging me about it and I keep telling him that I like the look of the sandal but for practicality's sakes they're just not a good choice, I don't pick those kinds of sandals, let's move on.

He walks out of the room, not angry, but with a muttering of "I'll be right back".

He reenters the room with an ancient pair of sandals I wore during the triassic that are, lo and behold, big toe loopy sandals. The look of triumph is gleaming on his face. I have been proven wrong. I have in fact owned such sandals in the past and my vociferous, tenacious insistence that I don't like these kinds of sandals has been proven erroneous because of this aberrant pair in the back of the closet.

I should have seen it coming, yes, I know. He knows full well that I have a memory like a sieve. The kind of random data I hold on to is not of the tangible, real world application sort. I hold on to random science facts and shit I hear on Discovery Channel and facts about foreign countries and languages. More practical memory eludes me. I occasionally find shirts in the rear of the closet, tags still attached, that I'm sure I bought because it's one of my brands, but the actual memory of having bought that shirt was subjected to ctrl-alt-delete.

What got under my skin was the enjoyment he got out of the set-up and proving me wrong. I love the man dearly and would never trade him in on another, but that kind of shit is actually pretty ugly to me. It falls into the same bucket as enjoying getting a rise out of someone. It's a negative, unpretty kind of enjoyment.

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