A Good Egg

Rob and I went out two nights in a row last weekend, an event as shocking as if Daniel had sat down at the piano to play Beethoven's Fifth with no prompting. On Friday we had the Book of Mormon, which was full of impressive talent, but which strayed toward the vulgar (not shocking from the creators of South Park). We enjoyed it but didn't erupt in the same guffaws and knee slaps as the slightly inebriated folks in the row behind us. The next night we had clubhouse tickets to the Rockies game courtesy of old friends that we hadn't seen in years. We enjoyed catching up and comparing notes on our high-schoolers, which was startling considering that when we met twenty years ago no one had kids and Rob and I had just become a couple. We enjoyed our couple time, able to talk, people-watch, and listen to profanity without children present.

After some naps and football on Sunday, Rob dedicated a few hours to researching new refrigerators. Our current fifteen-year-old model is turning itself off regularly, requiring Rob to restart it by unplugging, and then plugging it back in (a trick learned after 20+ years in the high tech world!). Scared to contemplate losing hundreds of dollars in food, we decided to go spend thousands of dollars on a new refrigerator. After a lengthy visit to Home Depot, a Q&A session on water filters, and pulling Daniel out of several ovens and dryers, we came home with receipts and instructions on how to fit the new fridge in our kitchen. We cut out / tear down the cupboard currently set in the wall and repaint the kitchen, of course, as one has to pay a high price for a new appliance.

When Rob got home from work last night he sat down rather despondently and sighed. "I've got to get something off my chest," he said.  A different woman's mind might have flashed toward pornography, an affair, or a missed bill payment, but knowing Rob, mine did not. I was surprised however, to hear the reason: "you know our fridge? the one I thought was ranked third in consumer reports? Well, it's not the same model. Our is actually ranked seven points lower." He looked at his tamales with regret.

When I assured him that I didn't care about the Consumer Report ranking and felt confident that we would be able to use the new fridge for fifteen  years regardless, he was relieved and set to dinner with relish.  That's the kind of confession a woman likes to hear. A good egg, for sure!