Of course, it's not all beer and skittles in Jokeville

Dear Internet,

Uncle Joke has been a very busy lad. NOS had a dentist appointment, and NTS had a cardiologist appointment pretty much back-to-back. Lest there be a tumult among the people, NTS's was a precaution because of a prescription he was, er, prescribed. The cardiologist said everything was fine and that we were very wise to seek his confirmation of what we already knew and, once he had seen what our insurance would cover, ordered a battery of tests that would bankrupt most 3rd World nations. "Just to make sure."

You'll be amazed these all came back fine.

Then I had to throw on my food-and-wine geek hat out to help a pal make some menu choices for an event in the summer.

This all against the backdrop of the looming end of tax season. For those of you who are not Infernal Revenue Service-conversant, the closer it is to Tax Day, the more frazzled tax professionals, like, say, TFBIM get. TFBIM is a woman of amazing strengths and talents but despite my telling her otherwise, considers stress equivalent to marathon training and nothing makes her feel more alive than having a gallon of adrenaline speeding through her system at all times.

This is dangerous turf for the SAHD. On the one hand, the SAHD has to be very supportive and understanding and patient. The work is vexing, the regulations laberynthine, the clients maddening, the deadlines jarring and the hours interminable. So a savvy SAHD shoulders even more of the daily burdens. I schlep across town at breakneck speed to handle errands after saying "Oh, don't worry dear, I'll do X and Y for you. Yes, it's no bother at all. Yes, I'm sure." NTS's baseball thing at 4pm, NOS's golf thing at 4:30pm, then back to pick up NTS at 5pm and then back again to pick up NOS at (barely!) 5:45pm. Then sling them in the shower in the order of sweatiness and plot dinner, making sure there are plenty of leftovers that will prove reheatably palatable at 10:30pm or so when TFBIM returns.


One must balance this obsequiousness with care. A woman stressed to her limits is difficult to mistake for a rainbow or a frisky kitten. After all, if I am to perform all this errandy, parental goodness I must avoid being decapitated with a spatula or having my throat chewed through. I mean, really, it only stands to reason. So one keeps a low profile, so as not to be the Nearest Target of Opportunity when the Wrathful Venting Muse strikes one's beloved. I make cappuccino offerings and just @#$%ing SCRAM from sight, that sort of thing.

It's almost as if your wife (or, husband as your case may be) was a spiritual timeshare, with a demonic party showing up during the off-season, and loitering freely. You can only ameliorate the circumstances and plan to ride it out in the cellar.

That's my advice, anyway.



blackbird said…
I feel for you.
K is nearly done with the GIANT SPRING PROJECT which occupies his down time from late February through next Saturday...it's getting a little rough around the edges, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.
MsCellania said…
I'll say it again;
You make one helluva wife.

I think the rest of us just need to

Or something.
Caro said…
Yikes, you sound a bit busy. :)
shula said…


Has it occurred to you that it may all be about your New Coffee Machine? Exactly how many capuccinos are you helpfully handing her?

Or is she Italian, too, in which case she doesn't function on less than five (I'm sure I've got Italian throwback, somewhere)?
Poppy Buxom said…
Tell TFBYM you don't have time to pick up the lads after their athletic contests because you're too busy geekily working on food and wine info for me.

Go ahead, tell her.

I'm sure the residents of Dade County will enjoy the ensuing fireworks. It will keep their minds off their tax bills.
Joke said…

Yay YOU!


No so much fireworks as gunfire.

My float said…
I read Wrathful Venting MOUSE and that kept me laughing for a good half hour.
Kim said…
I fear this is the life Chef leads with me - irrespective to my equivalent of tax time - otherwise known as deadlines of innumerable quantity.
I don't think that makes sense, but you get my drift.
Joke said…

If psychopath rodents amuse you, I am glad to have been of service.


We're a resilient bunch, demanding only to not be shouted at or threatened bodily. Those absurdly simple qualifications met, we practically glow with love.

Sarah O. said…
I needed two cups of cappucino just to get through this post.

I'd suggest that you give yourself a break today and get up and get away to Mickey D's, but.

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