Living Vicariously

Diana came downstairs Saturday morning all fixed up:

“Well, don’t you look beautiful this morning? I see you have your ‘going out’ face on. What are your plans for today?”
“Well, initially my plan was to spend the day helping you clean, but I really need to find a new shirt for the bank Christmas party, and I feel bad about going shopping and leaving all the housework to you.”
“Would you feel less bad if you went shopping and I just gave you credit for everything I do today?”
“Oh, I’d feel MUCH better about that.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“Darling, I love you with all my heart, and I appreciate the offer, but I know full well you don’t want to clothes shop with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re fine at first, but then you get bored and start sighing… loudly.”
“Really?”
“Really. I can hear you from the dressing room. So can the other women. Then you start sitting on things. If there isn’t a chair nearby, you sit on display racks… and sigh.”
“My legs get tired… and your purse weighs a ton.”
“I know. And when I come out and ask you what you think of my outfit, you say, ‘It looks great, you should get it.'”
“Well, you ask my opinion.”
“True, but I can’t trust your opinion, because you say that about EVERY SINGLE OUTFIT. You just want to get out of there and get to the tool section of Sears. Oh… oh, and then you start standing around the underwear section just to annoy the other women.”
“Yeah, it’s weird – like putting a drop of dish soap in a sink full of greasy water: they all just scatter.”
“Yes, and I feel rushed. I don’t want to feel rushed when I’m shopping. No, I like your first idea: I shop, you work, I take the credit for whatever you do.”
“Fine.”
“Fine. I’ll bring you back lunch.”

Diana returned several hours later with a couple of shirts.

“Well, what do you think?”
“They look great. I’m glad you got them.”
“You’re not even looking at them.”
“Darling, my fashion sense stopped evolving after 1979. Unless one of those two shirts has a Procol Harum ‘Salty Dog’ logo on it, I’m going have to just trust your judgment.”
“They’re both beautiful. So, what else did I do today?”
“What? You weren’t here. How would I know?”
“You said I’d get credit for whatever you did today. What did I do?”
“Oh yeah, well, you cleaned the entire refrigerator.”
“That was nice of me. Did I do a good job?”
“Well, it took you longer than it would have me, but, to be fair, you had to take apart several shelf racks.”
“Why did I have to do that?”
“Because at some point, something spilled all down one side of the fridge and got into every nook and cranny. I’m pretty sure it was blood.”
“Are you saying I did it?”
“No. I’m saying there are only two people in this house and I always put a tray under meat when I put it in the refrigerator. How you work the math after that is your business.”
“Hmmm… did I do anything else?”
“You did! You found the set of craft knives you bought two years ago that you had completely forgotten you had. Then you cut the crap out of your thumb running it along the edge of one of the knives to see if it was still sharp. Turns out it was.”
“Did I cry?”
“Like a little girl.”
“I’m not very bright am I?”
“Not today, you’re not.”

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