Just Buy 20 New Towels A Week

My dear Trophy of a wife declared we needed to talk, and when she said it her teeth were gritted and her tone was flat. Ominous.

I did a quick and guilty fact-check of some of my more questionable recent activities to arm myself prior to the conversation.

What could get her so heated up that she’d be willing to engage in several minutes of conversation with me, of all people in her life?

I narrowed it down to likely probabilities:

1) The most recent phone bill arrived and she’s curious about all my late night calls to Paris Hilton.

2) My recent decision to take up chewing Beechnut tobacco as a hobby.

3) Using the bathtub as a spittoon.

4) Reading “TRUMP: Hero or Genius?” out loud while she’s watching CNN.

5) Slathering Chanel face cream on my chest and shoulders after showering.

6) Using epoxy glue to keep the toilet seat in its full upright position.

That seemed about right. I didn’t bother with the missing medications that I’d already blamed on her sister and besides, that was way back in June. The broken windshield I told her was Kip’s fault.

But six is a good number, and more than I thought I’d come up with. And gluing the seat upright is nothing much, since we have the basement lavatory as a backup.

And yet I missed it. I spent 15 minutes to come up with everything she could possibly be annoyed and / or homicidal about and I miss it. Unbelievable.

So here it is, and feel free to laugh. I did:

Improper folding of towels.

Does this mean she’s more upset about the way I fold towels than she was when I gave her the leaf blower for Christmas?

Meaning, I think, that the towels in our house, the ones we mostly use to dry things, had undergone mal-folding. Mis-folding. Wrongly folded up and maybe put on shelves upside down.

I really did laugh. I get to skate on the $100 gift certificate I got her for Hooters on our anniversary? The meds I took and sold and blamed on her sister?

Darling, are you saying you are A-OK with all the times I’ve tied your dog to a post behind the Forest Club while I went in and downed half a dozen cold ones, but that you’re in warpath mode over a crooked crease in a dish towel??

But it’s true. Ask her. Ask my lovely wife if it’s true she gets riled up when the towels that are supposed get folded once this way and twice the other, are instead subjected to three folds and then crosswise but with the northwest corner pointing south. More or less.

Then ask her how much I laughed. But please don’t bring up the missing medications or the necklace with matching earrings I took to the pawn shop down on State Street.

BUTTERFLIES ARE BACK

Longtime readers, of which there must be at least a dozen, and with good memories, which narrows it to three or four, may recall my backyard butterflies.

Every summer two black-and-yellow swallowtail butterflies grace our small but densely planted back yard. For maybe 20 consecutive years they have come to dance, whirl, dive and swirl, all to our huge delight.

The questions come every season: Can it possibly be the same pair? If not, is it possible two butterflies magically take the place of the previous year’s pair?

Neither guess seems plausible, which makes us wonder how it happens.

TIME TO SWITCH

Summer’s here and the time is right to rediscover the new, improved old way to dress up the BBQ burgers and hot dogs.

Dump the pretentious Grey Poupon stuff that got popular about 40 years ago, marketed as very upscale and quite the must-have condiment. It’s time to give it the heave ho and go back to the original.

Dress up your next burger, sausage or hotdog with French’s bright yellow mustard, or its equivalent. Tangy, refreshing, reminiscent of better dogs, better days.

And while you’re piloting the BBQ grille remember: the only cheese authorized for a proper cheeseburger is American cheese. Mild, melty, good-lookin’ too!