My Spoon!!!

It’s pretty bad when “getting out” is my going to Jiffy Lube on a Friday afternoon for an oil change. What’s sad is that I was giddy as the serviceman greeted me and I explained that I needed to remove “my child” before I gave him my keys. Ah yes, taking the new tot to Jiffy Lube, that’s what human contact is all about.

Speaking of human contact, I wonder about something I did earlier to my husband. Well, I really have to set this up by asking, why do husbands refuse to honor your wishes when it comes to the kitchen? Listen, I'm the one who came into this relationship with the umpteen appliances, pots and pans, dishes, silverware and spices. And usually men don't have a use for a carousel to organize all of their spices. Anyway, even in this modern era of women having equal rights and all, the kitchen is primarily the woman’s domain (Did I just set back women a hundred years?). Well, it is unless you marry one of those guys who owns a cuisinart, a wok and owns more cookbooks than you do. I did not marry one of those guys. I married a man that, although he is very clean and tidy, used to stir his macaroni and cheese in a non-stick saucepan with a metal fork. We recently just got rid of that pan.

So my husband loves the dishwasher and thinks that everything, including the cat, should go into the dishwasher. Of course, he also practically washes the dishes and utensils before putting them in the dishwasher, but that’s a whole ‘nother nutty quirk. Just to keep things fun, he also tries to put any dirty pots and pans in the dishwasher, because it’s a magical land that the dirty pot must experience. I, of course, come from the school of handwashing any dirty pots or pans and wooden spoons or knives with wooden handles. Now, I don’t know if he didn’t grow up with any wooden utensils in his house or if his parents just didn’t explain the treatment of these utensils, but he refuses to believe that any wooden item should not go in the dishwasher. Note: It’s not good for them to soak or be exposed to too much water. Of course, my husband refuses to believe me when I tell him this and pretty much concludes that I’m “just making that up!”

This brings us to what happened today. I was unloading the dishwasher and what did I find? My long-handled wooden spoon. And yes, this is my perfectly balanced, smoothly-handled wooden spoon that I found in an antique store years ago and yes, it screams, “They don’t make things like they used to!” Well, how in the world did that get in there? I can only guess. My 5 month old or perhaps, the cat? Probably neither.

So I know that I want to say something to my husband, but don’t want to sound naggy, so maybe I’ll wait until he gets home and nonchalantly ask, “Oh, do you know how the wooden spoon got in the dishwasher? It must have been an accident, because you know it’s not supposed to go in there. Heh.” Well, that’s not what I did. Because maybe he’s acting like a child and testing the waters to see how far he can push me. And he thinks my wooden utensil theory is stupid and is purposely defying me. Or maybe he was just oblivious to the fact that he put it in there. Probably the last one. Whatever the excuse, I decided to call him at work on his busiest day of the week, even though I knew that he would be diligently trying to get his work done before 5 pm. But I called him anyway. I could have waited and I could have forgotten, but he needed to know what he had done and I needed him to know what he had done…..right then!

So he knew he was in trouble as I explained the reason for my call. Even though he claimed he just threw “everything” in without realizing it, he still couldn’t defend that he had left the wooden spoon in there after we’d discussed a day earlier why wooden utensils don't go in the dishwasher. He defied me. (Well, says me.)

Anyway, I really wasn’t mad about it and it probably was an accident. And hey, I’ve got it pretty good if my husband loads the dishwasher in the first place, right, compared to lots of other women’s husbands? So I wonder, did I call him to find out about the wooden spoon or did I call him in a subconscious effort for some human contact? I mean, there’s my new baby and 3 year old, but they're both at a little different level in conversation than my husband. And there’s the cat, but she’s still giving me that look since we brought home the first baby. So I wonder…is my husband my excuse for human contact or is he just my friend? Probably the latter.