Well, y’all, I never saw this coming. All these years, living like this day wouldn’t come and yet, here we are. I can only imagine it signals the end. The end of the world surely must be nigh.
What? Do you think I’m talking about the election? Oh no. Something much more insane than a little election has occurred at our house and I know it must mean the end. Here it is:
Did you see it? Look again:
See it now? Do you see that empty pudding cup with a spoon in it? It’s an empty pudding cup with a spoon in it! It was left on the coffee table overnight. Left out. On the coffee table. All night.
What? That doesn’t seem like a big deal to you? Well, it will seem earth-shattering when I tell you the only person who eats pudding cups at this house is Sean.
That’s right, people. Sean Duffy left a pudding cup and spoon on the coffee table! I'm waiting for the earthquakes, crashes of thunder and bolts of lightning to begin any moment.
Rebecca and I came home from a rehearsal to a quiet house, so we assumed Sean had gone to bed. When we entered the family room and saw the pudding cup (and spoon!), we both gasped. I don’t think either of us has ever – EVER – known him to leave out anything like that. Ever.
We were afraid he’d been abducted because in our minds, that’s the only way this scene made sense.
He’s the one who sweeps through the house, dumping out glasses he finds without hands around them, not aware (or caring) that we might still be using them. He puts things away using the touch-it-once rule: if you handle something, put it where it belongs the first time. He has never left his socks or underwear on the floor. In 24 years of marriage I can honestly say I have never seen him leave anything out of place like this.
(I realize those of you with messy husbands must be jealous right about now, but it makes this person, who's fond of piles, just a little insane. You have no idea the pressure I live under to keep my piles neat and managed. Which doesn't usually happen unless company is coming over and then I sweep all my piles into a laundry basket to be dealt with at a later date. Look, we all have our filing systems...)
Once Rebecca and I recovered from the shock of seeing the trash on the coffee table, we both cracked up and said, “Picture! We must take a picture!” Because Rebecca knew her siblings would not believe this story without photographic evidence.
I guess it’s finally happened. My clear inability to handle-it-once has rubbed off on him. (Notice the barrette, single earring, bracelet and ring on the table.) Goodness. I wonder if tomorrow there will be socks on the bathroom floor or worse – a glass that isn’t whisked away from the family room to the kitchen sink.
My word. It seems I hardly know my husband any more. Maybe the real Sean Duffy WAS abducted and a fake was left in his place... If this were a movie, the pudding cup would be a clue that something was horribly amiss.
Assuming that the real one is still among us, I must admit nothing will shock me any more. Nothing is as nuts as Sean Duffy leaving out a pudding cup and spoon. Not even an election season as crazy as 2016's.