It’s so cute that my husband comes home from work and inquires about the broken phones by asking, “Well, did you troubleshoot?”
If just looking at him with my mouth hanging open counts as an answer, that’s what I replied.
“Did you unplug wires and plug them back in?” he says, one word at a time, as if English is my second language. “Track the problem? Hit reset?”
“I troubleshooted,” I say, while still looking at my laptop. “I waited for you to come home to fix it.”
He replies to that with the “do I have to fix everything around here?” expression. He thinks I can’t see it because I’m still looking at my screen.
“I can see you,” I say, still looking at my screen.
I lifted my eyes from my computer and said, “When’s the last time I fixed something….besides the hole in your jeans that I sewed with that really cool hippy fabric.”
It was really cool fabric. He liked the patch job. It was very “Boulder”, where he grew up. I threw that repair into the dialogue to soften him about my complete lack of interest in solving a Mars problem, while emphasizing my skill for Venus problems.
He didn’t soften. He left for work this morning. Shut the door on two broken phones sleeping in their cradles.
I got lonely. I miss my phone friends.
Skye’s idea of troubleshooting is to go back to work the next day without fixing whatever needed fixing. What usually happens is that the problem gets on my nerves just enough and I fix it.
I made two calls on the phone to test it after I “troubleshooted” and it works again. But I’m not going to call Skye at work and tell him. I’m not done toying with him.
He’ll call home before he leaves for work, like he does every night, and here’s my plan. I’m not going to talk. I’m going to make him think the phone is still broken. Then he’ll think to himself, “She isn’t going to fix this, is she?!”
He’ll come home, go downstairs, unplug the wires in the basement, plug them back in, just like I did, come upstairs and test the phones by calling the cell.
I can’t wait. I’ll stand across from him as he tests the house phone and move my lips as if I’m talking into the mouthpiece of the cell, but still there’s no sound. I’ll snap the cell phone shut, shove it back in my pocket and say, “Nope. Still not working.”
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Very cute Post! “Troubleshooting” a house phone, sounds more complex than it seems. =]
Keep writng the good stuffs
If only more of us women had heeded that advice of Dorothy Parker’s and not put all our eggs in one bastard, eh?
Mmm-hmmm.
Ha, I think most of our husbands don’t read our blogs judging by the amount of posts I see on gender-based domestic warfare. And on how much we gals all relate to it
Speaking of which, Amy I think you just enlightened me on why my husb NEVER folds the laundry. He, in fact, sleeps on it, unfolded. Amazing.
He considers it chick domain, so therefore, just won’t do it.
As for the broken phone, you know, I would love for my phone to be broken. The tyranny of the phone (the requirement of immediate response) is, to me, worse than the tyranny of the BlackBerry!
As Dorothy Parker said whenever the phone rang, “What fresh new hell is this?”
My other Dorothy Parker fave is “Don’t put all your eggs in one bastard.”
You crack me up…Skye must not read this blog.
Let’s just say I enjoy a lot of freedom. Because if I were say my own husband doesn’t read my blog…that doesn’t sound very supportive, now does it? But the truth is, his support is in the form of free reign. “Write whatever you want, babe.”
It must be hard for men to be so capable all the time and ‘hands on etc’. I find it endearing in a strange way, but I troubleshoot all that needs fixing and leave him to just point out the broken stuff (that’s his role).
We’ve been throwing around the word troubleshoot around here left and right.
“What’s for dinner?”
“I dunno. Why don’t you open the fridge and troubleshoot.” You have to say troubleshoot with your eyebrows, too. Wiggle them around for effect.
And they say romance is dead…Someone said that, right?
That’s what I’m tawkin’ about!!!!
You *must* let us know if your diabolical plan works.
I want to be much more rotten than I am. He called and I answered.
Served him right!