June 26, 2009

After I read the following I felt that I could very much relate and see myself doing it.

The following excerpt is from “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society” by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows on Pages 24-25 of the paperback version. I don’t really see it as a spoiler but I am now warning you about it so that you can not say that I spoiled without warning!

“On the afternoon before our wedding, Rob was moving in the last of his clothes and belongings while I delivered my Izzy article to the Spectator. When I was through, I tore home, flew up the stairs, and threw open the door to find Rob sitting on a low stool in front of my bookcase, surrounded by cartons. He was sealing the last one up with gummed tape and string. There were eight boxes- eight boxes of my books bound and ready for the basement!

He looked up and said “Hello darling. Don’t mind the mess, the porter said he’d help me carry these down to the basement.” He nodded toward my bookshelves and said, “Don’t they look wonderful?”

Well, there were no words! I was too appalled to speak. Sidney, every single shelf-where my books had stood-was filled with athletic trophies: silver cups, gold cups, blue rosettes, red ribbons. There were awards for every game that could possibly be played with a wooden object: cricket bats, squash racquets, tennis racquets, oars, golf clubs, Ping-Pong paddles, bows and arrows, snooker cue, lacrosse sticks, hockey sticks, and polo mallets. There were statues for everything a man could jump over, either by himself or on a horse. Next came the framed certificates-for shooting the most birds on such and such a date, for First Place in footraces, for Last Man Standing in some filthy tug-of-war against Scotland.

All I could do was scream, “How dare you! What have you DONE?! Put my books back!”

Well that’s how matters started. Eventually, I said something to the effect that I could never marry a man whose idea of bliss was to strike out at little balls and little birds. Rob countered with remarks about damned bluestockings and shrews. And it all degenerated from there- the only thought we probably had in common was, What the hell have we talked about for the last four months? What, indeed? He huffed and puffed and snorted- and left. And I unpacked my books”

I would like to now point out that while I was typing that up in my word document Jennie texted me and an unidentified moving object walked across my bed and made me jump off it…the unidentified object/bug not the text. I promptly raced to get a napkin and then could not find said bug and had to pretty much remove almost everything from the bed until I tracked down the little bugger. I’m pretty sure it was an ear wig and I don’t think I could have slept in the bed knowing that it could possibly crawl in to my ear and take up residence.

It’s ok…it’s now been flushed down the toilet and Jennie and I are going to see The Hangover and then promptly go out to create our own hang over afterwards. As of this time no I have not seen Transformers…I’m working on it.