"IT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT" or, "THE TROUBLE YELLOW FEVER CAN CAUSE", a new mini novel by Ray Leo.
Frau: "You were out there plowin' a long time tonight (read the line with guilt-trip implications: why weren't you with me?)
R: "Well, you told me I had to plow the driveway."
F: "Yeah, but did it have to take you that long?" (she's pissed b/c our new dog keeps peein' in her kitchen and the fury is being projected on the family).
R: "Well, I plowed all the snow down to the end of the driveway onto the street, then, I had to push it all into the ditch, and, I had to clear the snow out in front of the mail box."
F: You didn't have to clear the snow in front of the mail box, the mail lady just drives right through it all. I did too this-'safter noon when I got the mail."
R: Hon, I pushed all of the snow down the driveway and there was a BIG pile in front of the mail box. I had to clear it.
F: "Oh." . . . . "You just like bein' on that tractor."
R: "Sure I do. But I also needed to move the drift that was a foot high across our driveway and had to put the snow some place. I asked you on the phone this 'saft if you wanted me to plow during the kids time before supper or during your time after supper."
F: "And I answered you that it should be during our time, not the kids time."
R: "No you didn't. So I made the decision to plow before supper and the kids played outside while I plowed, but you called us in for supper and then told me to play with the kids, then finish plowing".
F: "Well, you didn't have to take that long."
R: "Do you think I like plowin' with that wind chill out there?" (read, I'd rather face the storm out side of the house rather than the one inside the house).
F: (Later that night while I was in bed and she was still fussin' in the bathroom): "And one of you boys left the lid up, there's pee all over the floor, and you didn't flush. You males are all alike. The dog is history. Next dog will be a female".
Epilogue:
I rolled over under the quilt and drifted off into slumber, painfully aware of my wife's frustration with the dog, yet fully satisfied with the performance of the Cub. The old IH slant grille ran flawlessly, without complaint, doing it's work under the light of a cold moon shining down on the dark blue snows of a windswept landscape.
Must be a male tractor.
Frau: "You were out there plowin' a long time tonight (read the line with guilt-trip implications: why weren't you with me?)
R: "Well, you told me I had to plow the driveway."
F: "Yeah, but did it have to take you that long?" (she's pissed b/c our new dog keeps peein' in her kitchen and the fury is being projected on the family).
R: "Well, I plowed all the snow down to the end of the driveway onto the street, then, I had to push it all into the ditch, and, I had to clear the snow out in front of the mail box."
F: You didn't have to clear the snow in front of the mail box, the mail lady just drives right through it all. I did too this-'safter noon when I got the mail."
R: Hon, I pushed all of the snow down the driveway and there was a BIG pile in front of the mail box. I had to clear it.
F: "Oh." . . . . "You just like bein' on that tractor."
R: "Sure I do. But I also needed to move the drift that was a foot high across our driveway and had to put the snow some place. I asked you on the phone this 'saft if you wanted me to plow during the kids time before supper or during your time after supper."
F: "And I answered you that it should be during our time, not the kids time."
R: "No you didn't. So I made the decision to plow before supper and the kids played outside while I plowed, but you called us in for supper and then told me to play with the kids, then finish plowing".
F: "Well, you didn't have to take that long."
R: "Do you think I like plowin' with that wind chill out there?" (read, I'd rather face the storm out side of the house rather than the one inside the house).
F: (Later that night while I was in bed and she was still fussin' in the bathroom): "And one of you boys left the lid up, there's pee all over the floor, and you didn't flush. You males are all alike. The dog is history. Next dog will be a female".
Epilogue:
I rolled over under the quilt and drifted off into slumber, painfully aware of my wife's frustration with the dog, yet fully satisfied with the performance of the Cub. The old IH slant grille ran flawlessly, without complaint, doing it's work under the light of a cold moon shining down on the dark blue snows of a windswept landscape.
Must be a male tractor.
