Kate’s tendency to launch into Therapist-speak is one of
those lovable idiosyncrasies that people reminisce about when you die. (Especially since she never was one; before
she was a priest she was a community organizer and state lobbyist.) Of course they may not realize that it was lovable
as long as you’re alive. I brought this
up to Ed when I told him about the fight. (Or, as Kate would say, “difference of opinion.”)
I want to make sure Ed knows my foibles are lovable while
I’m still around. I asked him if there
was anything I did that he found “quirky.”
“Well, you pick the chunks out of the granola when the kids
aren’t around.”
“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
“No, but I don’t like granola.”
“What else?”“Well, those English expressions you use. Like ‘before you can say knife.’ And you call the fruit and vegetable store ‘the greengrocer’ and the dishtowels ‘tea towels.’ And the way you say ‘dog’.” (I don’t know what it is about the way I say dog, but for years that was my trick at parties.) “And the way you want to have discussions about things nobody has ever thought about, especially when I’m trying sleep.”
“What else?”
“Charlie, we have to go to work tomorrow.”
“Don’t you want to know what your quirks are?”
Ed sighed. “Sure, why
not?”
But I was too tired to think of anything, and I fell asleep
before you could say knife.
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