Marriage Bliss

I have been vindicated. Isn't it great when you really screw up, but then someone comes along and wipes it from memory with their own transgression?

As you know, we have recently acquired a little house. We are in that limbo stage of getting the house ready enough to move in, all the while biting our nails in anticipation of actually spending a night there. So, at the end of a long day, I carefully locked all of the windows and bolted the front door (we are in NE) before exiting the side door. Then Allan asked the question that made me want to beat my head bloody against the nice tan, vinyl siding of our new abode: You grabbed the keys, right? And, to remind you, I have just carefully secured the house into a Fort Knox-like structure. I really hate messing up; I generally try to avoid it. But, I have to tell you, the thing that really bugged me about this was that I could tell Allan was mad. No empathy, no it's okay honey - these things happen. Nada. Just a wisp of steam coming out of his ears as we drove back to my parent's home for the night.

Cut scene to the next afternoon. After paying Hamid $45 to jimmy my front door open in all of about ten seconds, I worked terribly hard all day turning the Santa Fe burnt orange and turquoise living room into a pleasant sage green. I had enjoyed the quiet, sans kids day of listening to NPR while working on my larger-than-life canvas. Knowing that I would have to live with my work for some time, I was as careful as one could be to not get a blip of that paint on the carpet (do you see where this is heading?) When he joined me at the end of the day, my dear husband did a great job of oohing and aahing over my work of art. He began to swiftly move across the room to point something out, when in slow-motion, I saw that he was about to field-kick the can of sage green paint that was sitting in the middle of the room to Timbuktu. My svelete ninja-like reaction was to simultaneously suck all of air out of the room with the most earth-trembling gasp you have ever witnessed, while covering my eyes with both hands. And that is where I stayed for quite some time. I couldn't look. I knew from the colorful words bouncing off of the fresh paint that danger had not been averted.

What was that about locking the keys in the house?