Slice of Life
By Mike Woodring
I stayed up too late last night. I finished watching “The Johnny Carson Show” and even this morning I am wondering why Johnny let such an odd man with a ukelele get married on his show. But what do I know? I’m just a working stiff.
My six-year-old son and my eight-year-old daughter just left for school. Scott, my boy, did his level best to argue with my wife, Melinda, that he really wasn’t supposed to go to school because the Lone Ranger would not want him to miss today’s episode. Somehow my wife overruled the Lone Ranger.
No less than three times at breakfast this morning did my daughter, Cathy, remind me that today was the day we would go pick out a new bicycle for her. She has her heart set on a green Schwinn 3-speed with a white basket on the handlebars.
My three other boys- Matt, Michael, and Kevin- already left early for school. They do everything together. They’re triplets. Translation? Triple threat. At ten years of age, they are a real handful. It is no longer a mystery to me as to why Melinda looks tired when I come home from work every evening. But for all of her weariness, I get a great big hug and kiss from her and then my kids climb all over me. Two nights ago, Michael was sitting at the kitchen table building a balsa wood glider plane when I came in the door. He looked so peaceful, and then when he saw me he came unhinged.
“Mr. Wonderful’s home!” he screamed. He ran straight for me and threw himself at me.
Then out of nowhere my other kids materialized. You would imagine that because she is my only girl, Cathy would get pushed out of the way by the boys, but not the case. She is smart enough to say something to distract them, then once she’s played out that crafty part of her plan, she throws her arms around my neck and doesn’t let go until I walk into the kitchen to greet my pretty wife. Now if a man doesn’t feel lucky after that, then I don’t know what would make him feel lucky.
So now that I have told you about the family, let me tell you about my long night.
I spent a quiet evening with Melinda watching “Gunsmoke”, then something else that I don’t recall, followed by the news, and finally Johnny Carson. We like ending our evening with Johnny. He’s the only man I’d trust to stay up late with my wife.
Anyhow, we finished Carson, then Melinda kissed me goodnight and went to bed. I said I’d be along in a bit because I wanted a bowl of ice cream, so I went to the kitchen. The dark kitchen. The dark kitchen with the linoleum floor. The dark kitchen with the linoleum that was wet with…with what? As if I didn’t know. So I turned on the kitchen light and there sat my dog, Bart. His ears were pinned back, almost as if he was waiting for the scolding he knew that he was due. So I got face to face with him and boy, did I let him have it!
Yessirree, I did. I let him have it behind his ears, and then as soon as he got tired of that, he rolled over onto his back and I scratched him some more on his chest. Then he rolled over again onto his chest and so I scratched him on his back. Eventually, I said to myself that I’d had enough of this foolishness, seeing as how I was standing there in my wet sock that smelled none to pleasant, petting a dog that was responsible for said wet sock.
As I started to stand straight up, I found that I couldn’t. My back was frozen in place. I couldn’t move a muscle. Bart looked up at me and started circling me, almost as if he wanted to ask me why I was standing bent over as I was. Then he started sniffing my wet sock. I mean he really sniffed it, and then he lifted his leg and made not only my foot wetter but my lower leg, too! After doing so, he proudly turned tail and walked off, leaving me in my frozen state. So much for the loyalty of dogs.
I was not sure what do, so I thought that if I could just back up and turn around as I braced myself on the kitchen counter, I’d be able to straighten up. Yes, a good plan that was. So I backed up…and promptly slipped on my rear end. I smacked my head on the floor when I landed. I stayed on the floor, writhing in pain until I could finally hold onto the counter top to get back up.
Once I managed to get back on my feet, I could at least stand upright again, though not without pain. I thought that maybe some aspirin might help, so I went to the bathroom, and all I found was some St. Joseph’s aspirin for children. I didn’t want to take that, and I didn’t want to wake up my wife to ask where regular aspirin might be, so I brainstormed a bit. It dawned on me that there was some aspirin in a first aid kit that was among the camping supplies in the garage.
Feeling satisfied, I went out to the garage and found my aspirin. I took two then headed back inside…almost. I turned the knob on the backdoor and realized that it was locked, so I went around to the front door. It was also locked. Ah, I thought, spare key under the doormat out back. So, around the house I went again. As I walked across the lawn, I heard laughing. Just then I was drenched to the bone! As I stood there shaking off the water like a wet collie, I saw two boys running down the street! They evidently turned on the hose and sprinkler just as I was walking across the lawn. What perfect timing, and oh-so-very funny, I thought.
I turned off the water and, in my soaked state, went to the back porch to retrieve the key from under the doormat. No key. Great, I thought. Locked out of the house. So back to the garage I went to find something I could pop the door lock with. Sure, I could have rung the bell and had Melinda let me in, but then she would be mad at me, and believe me, you don’t want the mother of multiple children- the same mother who has to arise early to feed those same children- to get out of bed to let a stupid husband back inside.
So, being the considerate husband I am, I went back to the garage. Once there I looked for a pointed little tool I knew would open the door lock. So I climbed up on the workbench to reach a toolbox where I kept that tool. Suddenly, CRASH! To the floor I fell, flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me. I looked around and saw assorted tools on the floor around me.
I just lay there thinking, “You just couldn’t go to bed when Melinda did. Just had to have a bowl of ice cream. Moron.” As I lay there, I started shivering in my wet clothes. I finally got to my feet and decided to get out of the wet shirt and pants. I felt better and started warming up a bit after that. Then, out of nowhere, a light shined on me.
“Don’t move a muscle, Sir.” The voice was very deliberate and commanding.
“Who’s there?” I asked, as I tried to shield my eyes from the flashlight.
“Police. Put your hands on that workbench.” Oh great. Now the police are visiting me. Like the professional he was, the larger of the two policemen cuffed me and turned me around. He smiled like some stupid college kid.
“Normally go prowling in your underwear, Sir?” he facetiously asked me.
Indignantly I replied, “No. I have a good reason for wearing my boxers. A very good reason, as a matter of fact.”
“This ought to be good,” said the cop.
I stood there in my underwear and told the cop what happened. He and his partner couldn’t quit laughing. They even laughed as they uncuffed me. We walked out into the backyard, they in their uniforms, me in my….boxers. Suddenly I saw a woman I had never seen before.
“Despicable!” she snapped. “I knew there was a burglar out here. I’m glad I called you boys,” she said to the cops. Pointing to me she said, “He looks like one of those peeping toms, too!” That made me wonder just what peeping toms do look like.
I didn’t even try to rise to my defense. I just walked over to the lady and smiled at her. I thought maybe I’d show her I didn’t have any ill will, so I tried to give her a hug. “No hugging, no hugging,” said the big cop. “Just keep your distance from the lady, Sir, and go inside.”
“But I’m locked out. I told you that.” I explained.
“Knock on the door. You’ll have to wake up your wife.” As if I didn’t think of that.
So, I knocked on the door in my underwear as a police officer stood on each side of me. I still didn’t have my clothes on. Finally the porch light came on and Melinda opened the door. Her face was bright red.
“Ice cream?” she shrieked. “You were just going to have a bowl of ice cream then come to bed! Now you’ve managed to get arrested with a strange woman!” Melinda was just getting warmed up, I could tell.
Strange woman? Oh, her. I turned around and there stood the woman in her nightgown. The same one that had evidently called the police on me.
I started to explain the situation. Melinda wasn’t having any of it. She slammed the door in my face.
“Good thing you have a chaise lounge to sleep on, Mister. You’re going to need it.” That was advice that I didn’t need from the cop with the college boy wisdom. Without another word, the two cops and the lady turned around and walked off, leaving me standing there shivering in my boxers and holding my wet clothes.
I decided that the cop was right. That chaise lounge would be my bed for the evening. I laid down on it, and I tried to get as comfortable as I could. By that time, I was tired, cold, and mad. It didn’t take anything for me to fall into a deep sleep in moments.
I awoke to the warmth on my face. Ah, a nice warm morning breeze.
Wrong. I opened my eyes. My son Scott stood over me, breathing on me.
“Dad, you aren’t dead are you?” He poked my forehead just to make sure.
“No Scotty, I am not dead. Although your mother might be mad enough to make me that way”, I cautiously replied.
“Yep. She’s mad alright. She said that any man who would be in his underwear outside at night isn’t fit for living in a house.” Scott was so matter-of-fact, just like the six-year old expert he is.
“Where’s she at now?” I asked.
“Cooking stupid poached eggs for breakfast. Do I have to have poached eggs, Dad? Mom always sings that stupid egg song. I hate it.” Scott has big, blue, pleading eyes, let me tell you.
“We’ll see,” I said as I got up from the chaise lounge. I walked inside and sat down at the kitchen table. Scotty begrudgingly ate the poached egg and toast that Melinda had made for him. She had also inflicted the same breakfast upon Cathy. Melinda was still roaming around the kitchen, slamming things on the counter. Finally she turned and looked me square in the eye.
“I suppose,” she began, “that you have a big story you care to share about your escapades last night?”
I started to tell my story but she cut me off. “The next time the dog uses the kitchen floor for a bathroom, I would appreciate if you would clean it up.”
I decided it was no use to give a further explanation.
My daughter Cathy looked at me and said, “Daddy, Mom doesn’t like us to come to the table in our underwear. Right mom?” she said, as she looked to Melinda for confirmation.
Melinda looked me over, up and down, head to toe. Then she walked over to me and sat down….on my lap. She gave me a kiss and wrapped her arms around me.
“That’s disgusting!” Scotty said, as he watched Melinda kiss me.
I smiled at Melinda and said, “Boy am I tired.” Scotty looked at me as if I were from outer space.
“Why are you so tired, Dad?” he asked, looking very mystified. “Mom let you sleep outside and you didn’t even have to wear your pajamas.” I just looked at Melinda and we laughed. Scotty and Cathy looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
Okay, so I’m tired today. My back still hurts. I still haven’t changed my socks, and my children think I am odd. So what else is new? All of this is just another oddly regular occurrence in my home. Just a typical slice of life. What a life. A good life.
The End
© By Mike Woodring, 2007
