The Exchange

My dream job, and I’m being 110% serious, is to co-host a talk radio show with my husband. It’s been something I’ve talked about since we’ve been married, and I really and truly would go to work happy every day if this was my job. We would talk about sports, politics, the jerk who cut us off in traffic, the lady who would. not. move. from the center of the grocery aisle – it would be the best talk radio show out there. And people would love us. We would answer emails, take calls, and I would have the ability, nay – the power, to put people on mute. HOW could this not be everyone’s dream job?!

Today I came home for lunch, and like any other day where my husband works the late shift, he was here. Since I don’t get to see him in the evenings, I rather enjoy getting to spend 40 minutes or so during the middle of the day with him. Today he was spry. I’m not sure if he slept differently, or if there was something slipped in his milk, but he was outright ornery.

I thanked him, first of all, for doing the dishes. The sink was clear, the counter was clean, and the dishwasher was just about empty, save for a few new residents of dirty plates and silverware. I then had to put up with Brent berating me for asking him to cook me a hamburger patty when we have leftover chili to eat. Mind you, chili was all I ate on Friday and I’m kind of sick of it. But whatever, I’ll eat it. I grabbed the Tupperware housing the chili and spooned some in to a bowl for myself. I set the spoon on the corner of the sink, and proceeded to microwave my chili.

In the meantime, Brent got on the phone with a certain credit card company to cancel our card because 1) credit cards are the devil, 2) we don’t use the card, and 3) we are being charged out the butt for interest. Brent was RILED UP! I have never heard him talk on the phone this way to customer service agents. You have to understand, Brent trains customer service agents for a living and he is always very patient and lenient with ones he has to interact with for our personal business. But not today! He was giving Ms. Peggy a what-for, after Ms. Brandy had transferred him through another automated voice menu. Oh man, he was firing off retorts like I have never heard. It was like listening to a male me on the phone.

The microwave stopped and I grabbed the spoon from the corner of the sink, stirred the chili, and proceeded to eat. Brent ended the phone call after canceling our card, and I was letting him know how entertained I was by his entire exchange. He stood up to do something, when – stop the earth on it’s axis because we’re all going to die – he saw where I had rested my spoon, and it had left a puddle of chili juice.

“Really? I just cleaned this kitchen.”
“Brent, are you upset about my chili spot?”
“Yes, I just cleaned this kitchen.”
“Oh? Oh really? But how many times have I cleaned the kitchen, and then your toast crumbs are covering the entire counter top and I don’t say a word to you about it?”
“Well, it’s kind of hard to talk to me when I’m not here, isn’t it?”
“Oh, so then it’s okay for you to leave a mess because you won’t be here to hear me talk about it?”
“Well if you want to wait four hours until I come home to mention it -“
“Oh right! Who are you to say I wasn’t going to clean that chili spot up before I left? But I sit down to eat my chili and I’m a slob.”
(The chili he insisted I eat, but that I was tired of eating.)
“Oh yah, okay, you were going to clean it. But you couldn’t clean it right away or while you’re bowl was in the microwave for a minute.”
“I didn’t move the spoon until the microwave was done.”
“Oh okay. Sure, so you were going to clean the chili spot.”
“I don’t want to host a radio show with you anymore.”

Brent laughed and then proceeded to explain, “that would have been the perfect radio show exchange. We could have taken calls and emails to see what people thought about you and your chili mess on the counter.”

And he’s right. About the perfect radio show exchange. People would love us. They would call, email, and tune in every day to hear what Brent and I had to say about nothing. It would be like our own Seinfeld, only over the radio. And I really was going to clean the chili spot before I left. Geez.

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