I just did the math. I’ve been married to my husband now for 84 years. Ok, I admit, I’ve never pretended to be very good at math, well, in all honesty, I have pretended; but it never did me any good.
Now where was I? Ah yes, my husband of 84 years.
Actually now that I recalculate I find that we have only been married 37 years. (Which is why I always call him 37. It just saves time.). Anyway, in all those 37 years, it occurs to me I’ve never really attempted to describe him (except that time to the police).
I suppose the most dominant trait about my husband is that he is an engineer.
This means that if he is asked a simple question about, say, fractions, his eyes will light up like a super nova, and he will begin to answer your question by going back to the days of Pythagoras, and then work his way up the timeline of history’s great moments in math one by one.
He’ll often get so involved in his explanation that he will fail to notice that the person who posed the question (me) ducked out to go to the grocery store right after Sir Isaac Newton was elected Lucasian Professor of Mathematics in 1669 and popped back in just before Einstein figured out E = MC 2.
The only way you can tell when he’s done talking is when he says, “What was the question again?”
Sir Issac Newton
Engineers are trained to analyze the efficacy of systems as they pertain to the outcome desired.
This means they will give you a million reasons why something won’t work and none why something will.
That’s why, if I want something done around the house in this lifetime, I simply pretend that I am going to attempt the project on my own.
Believe me, if you want to get the attention of an engineer quickly, simply put a big role of duck tape under your arm and ask him if he’s seen the tape measure. If that doesn’t get him away from his spreadsheet nothing will.
Another thing about engineers is that they are definitely not clothes horses (or even clothes goats).
“And there’s even a place for my pocket protector!”
That’s why, if you were to peek inside an engineer’s closet it would not be unusual to see his 1967-issued, navy uniform (engineers never clean out their closets) right next to his work shirts — all four of them — two of which he considers brand new because he thinks he bought them four years ago when it was really seven.
And the only difference between his good pair of jeans and his bad pair of jeans is that the bad ones have holes that show and the good ones have holes that don’t.
But I would have to admit that being married to my husband, the engineer, has had its advantages.
First of all, if I need an accurate measurement, I know my husband will come through with flying colors.
Secondly, I’ve learned that pretty much everything that exists in the universe, real or imagined, has a scientific explanation.
And finally, and most importantly, not only can I count on my husband through thick and thin; but also, I can count on him to calculate just exactly how thick and just exactly how thin right down to the nearest millimeter.
Until next time. . . I love you