For over 9 years, I’ve been studiously listening, with my most supportive honey-I-adore-every-syllable-that-falls-from-your-lips style, to Sam talk and talk and talk about his desire to own a classic Mini Cooper. His father used to race them and his childhood memories are of days spent working on English cars in his uncle’s garage.

Early this summer, I came face to garish face with the fact that my patience tank for this particular topic was sucking fumes and I had little choice but to lay down the gauntlet. It was either that or a severe case of inner ear hemmorage was going to render me deaf to anything he says that doesn’t directly pertain to how amazing I am despite the fact that my kitchen repetoire consists of a meager 7 recipes. With great diplomacy, I told him that I’ve had it up to the crease between my eyebrows with all the talk about “someday when I have my Mini” and rather than using sex as a tool, which is totally ineffective for lack of follow-through, I promplty threatened to dissolve this marriage if he hasn’t found and purchased his dream project by the end of September. I’ve come to terms with moving to the next stage where I’ll listen to him talk about fixing his Mini instead of wishing he had a Mini to fix. As a result, plus a bit of cajolling from his business partner, he is currently on the hunt.

Saturday morning, my husband (if I can even risk admission of such an intimate association at this juncture) met me in the kitchen, exclaiming that he was headed out to mow the lawn. The outfit he was wearing brought me visions of Cousin Eddie from “National Lampoon’s Vacation” and gave me yet another reason to threaten annullment.
No Fruit of the Loom mens “undershirt”, with or without areola transparency, is permitted to be seen on the back of my man in public. Not even in the backyard. Fortunately, Sam knows where his Mini Dream is buttered and because he’s dedicated to the longevity of our union (or so I thought), he promptly changed. As it turns out, he donned this wife-beater just to watch my first cup of coffee come splattering out of my nose.