March 2010

“Husbandrinka,” I gasp. “Something shocking happened.”
“What?”
“I was in our building’s laundry room, and someone’s clothes were all done in the dryer and because they weren’t there to take them out, I did.” I paused for dramatic effect, which Husbandrinka mistook for the end of the story.
“Wow, are you ok?” he asked.
“As I was saying,” I continued. “I’m taking out the clothes, and it’s all normal things, t-shirts, pants, men’s underwear, women’s underwear.”
“This is good stuff.”

(Parenthetically, Husbandrinka’s attitude is exactly why Snapped is the best show ever. It’s so relatable!)

“So then, I’m going along with the laundry and minding my business, when who do you think appears?”
“A Genie?”
“No, Harvey.”
“Who?”
“Harvey! You know, the old guy downstairs? The old guy whose wife died? And it turns out that the clothes that I took out were his clothes. Question: Why does he have women’s underwear in there? Do you think he’s wearing his dead wife’s underwear?”
“Maybe he has a girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend? His wife just died.”
“She died five years ago. Anyway, why do you care?”
“I care because I saw him with women’s underwear so now he knows that I know and he’ll probably try to eliminate me.”
“What is this, American Idol?”
“Haha. Ha. By the way, you came up with that girlfriend scenario pretty quickly. Nice to know how you’re planning to mourn me once I’m gone.”
“Five years after you’re dead, I’m hoping to date again.”
“I like how you used “you’re dead” and “hope” in the same sentence. Lovely.”
“Besides, older widowers are at a premium. You know how pushy widows can be.”
“You are obviously overcome with grief-to-be and have lost your mind.”
“I’m just saying that maybe Harvey was washing his girlfriend’s underwear.”
“I am not speaking to you anymore.”
“Ok.”
“Except I will say that you have never, not once, did my laundry, and I really resent that you’re going to be doing her laundry.”
“I promise that I won’t.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”

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