When I was dating the Hubs, living in the Ironbound section of Newark, I made dinner at my house for him. While shopping for something different, I found a mix for Thai peanut sauce. Having only ever eaten the peanut salad dressing from Japanese restaurants, I thought this would be great.
I had no idea Thai was code for spicy as bloody blue blazes. I don’t mind a little heat now and then, but it darn near killed the (now) Hubs! I’ve since made it up to him with 99% of my cooking. (There was that one time I didn’t cook the alcohol out of the vodka sauce, but we were fine. Eventually.)
A couple of years into our marriage, the Hubs joined the Knights of Columbus, like his grandfather, uncle, and cousin before him (his brother the Legal Lawyer joined a few years later). One of the benefits of membership is access to pretty good life insurance for everyone in the family. My husband was working for the Boy Scouts at the time and I was a Catholic school teacher. We were still able to afford a lot of insurance coverage. We quickly joked that we were worth more to each other dead than alive.
I thought of this yesterday when, while shopping at WallyWorldBoxMart, my husband tried to kill me.
Ok, not really.
We found a water jug in Pint Size Genius’ favorite color, and the Hubs was so excited that when he grabbed it off the shelf, it flew out of his hands right at my face. MY FACE, YOU GUYS.
I reacted by reaching out for it, but it also slipped out of my hands back towards the Hubs, who grabbed it while nearly falling into a stack of camping coolers.
Once we realized that we were both okay, we fell all over each other laughing. I really hope there was a security camera that caught the incident. Could be worth something on the next season of AFV.
Buttercup likes to “play” with her toys by basically dumping them on the floor and walking away. The Hubs likes to call it “booby trapping” the living room. He has tripped, and slid, and gotten tangled in all sorts of stuff.
Now obviously, we’re not really trying to kill each other. It goes without saying that you can’t actually benefit financially from murder. And I’ve tried to imagine my life without the Hubs.
And I can’t.
Maybe I’d have a new house, a new car, and maybe I’d be working again, and even put the kids in private school. But it hurts to think about it for more than 5 seconds. Because what would be the point of having all that when all I want is someone to share it with?
So here’s to a spouse that will always be worth more alive than dead. May you all have the same.