A Conversation with My Husband, 37


I’m not afraid of much, Dear Readers.

Spiders don’t scare me.  Clowns don’t scare me. Medical procedures don’t scare me.  (Heck, I’ve even been known to get  major surgery while totally sound asleep!)

I am, however, afraid of needles.  Not the kind that give you shots.  No. I’m afraid of the needles at the end of sewing machines.

Boy oh boy does my sewing suck!

You see, I’m a horrible sewer.  (No, no not the kind of sewer than needs Roto-Rooter, I mean the kind of sewer who sews — but I’d probably be a horrible sewer too now that I think about it.)

Oh how I wish I could sew!   If I could sew, I would sew myself a killer wardrobe where everything I made would make me appear 15 pounds thinner, 20 years younger and upwards of  50  I. Q. points smarter.

It’s not like I haven’t tried to sew

Once, when my daughter was seven, she had a little friend over while I was sewing myself a pair of pants.  I had just finished sewing in the elastic waistband and was feeling rather proud of myself when my daughter’s seven-year-0ld friend glanced over from across the room and innocently asked me why I was sewing a waistband in the bottom of one pant leg.

I quickly pulled the pants out from under the needle, held them up and sure enough the little brat was right.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a complete idiot just an unfinished one.

I suspect my sewing problem stems from my inability to be able to correctly distinguish  right from left.  Oh sure,  I can tell right from left — trouble is I’m only correct 50 percent of the time.

Frankly, I don’t understand people who can differentiate between right from left easily.  And it seems like these Left-from- Right Geniuses like to flaunt their god-given talent  in the face of those poor souls, such as myself, who consider themselves rather intelligent, overall, if you don’t count a major dumb streak punctuated by pockets of stupidity here and there.

My engineer-husband, 37, takes great delight in vexing me about my dyslexic tendencies:

37:  Honey, can you hand me my pocket protector? It’s in the right-hand desk drawer.

Me:  Okay, sure.  Wait . . .  it’s not in here.

37:  Yes it is.

Me:  No it’s not.

37:  That’s because you need to look on the right desk drawer instead of the left desk drawer.

Me:  But I am looking in the left drawer and it’s not in here!

37:  No, I didn’t mean YOUR right, I meant MY right which would make it YOUR left. So YOUR left is actually MY right so you need to look in the other drawer than the one you’re looking in.

Me:  Oh get your own *#@!# pocket protector!

Or  let’s say 37  is giving me directions to someone’s house over the phone:

Me:  What side of the street is their house on?

37:  Well that depends.  Are you going east or west?

Me:  East or west?  How would I know? Just tell me what side of the street it’s on!

37:   It’s on the RIGHT side of the street.

Me:  Ok, great, thanks.

37:  If . . . .

Me:  If what?

37:  If you’re heading east, that is.

Me:  I don’t know what direction I’m heading.

37:  Well that’s easy to tell.  If your going East, the shopping center will be on your left.

Me:  It’s not on my left.

37:  Not YOUR left! MY left!

It’s times like this when I want to get out my sewing machine and sew an elastic waistband into 37′s shirt collar.  Then slowly tighten it to MY left HIS right MY East and HIS West.

You’ll have to excuse me now, Dear Readers, I have some sewing to do.

Until next time . . . I love you

43 thoughts on “A Conversation with My Husband, 37

  1. Dear LV, the symptoms you’ve described lead me to conclude: (a). They are the side effects of major surgery while sound asleep. (b), Longterm PTSD(Post Traffic Stress Disorder) from visiting the UK, which often exhibits prolonged states of incubation. My advice to you is simply to mix your tea and coffee from the same cup at the same time while watching a session of congress on c.span. Problem solved.

  2. Dear Linda, I had a friend once who had similar problems with left and right. We got around it by realising if she got it wrong to say the ‘the other left’ or the ‘the other right’ depending on which side of her was the problem. And it was huge problem to ask her to give you directions as she had trouble finding the toilet in the house let alone which house a friend lived in. Not everyone it would seem is gifted with directional abilities, so do not despair you are not alone in the universe.

    • Oh I feel so much better knowing that there is another person out there who always hears the phrase “the other right” and the other left” Haha!! I would say that she and I should get together but I’m afraid we would never find each other!!! :D

  3. I admire your husband. Not because he knows his right from his left, but because he’s 37. From what I gather here, you are a Directionally Challenged Individual, not uncommon in today’s society. This means there are certain occupations you should avoid such as; airline pilot, explorer, weatherperson, and seamstress (notice how “stress” is part of this word).

    • Well actually I call my husband 37 because we’ve been married 37 years, so I guess you’ll have to admire him because he can tell his right from his left. I, on the other hand (please don’t ask me which one), got married when I was zero, so that would make me 37.

      Stress is part of the word! It all makes sense now. (And I wondered why I kept getting turned down for all those explorer jobs I applied for!)

    • Ahah! That’s the way I am with spellchecker. But it’s funny because I never trust my GPS. I have no idea where I am, but it seems like my GPS doesn’t either so I never listen to it! :D

  4. I gave up sewing for ‘lent’ about 50+ years ago.. actually not for Lent…but I definitely gave it up ….sewing machines and me didn’t get along… As far as left and right…. if I just can think about it for a minute…and don’t get rushed… I can usually figure it out… Diane

  5. Why is it all men I know by use the North/South or East/West descriptions when giving directions?? When I worked as the concierge I used to give hand drawn maps complete with drawings of trees, windy roads, and billboards to watch out for when giving directions. I don’t think I used many actual street names.

    • Oh that’s so funny!! You were a concierge with no sense of direction and you got a promotion to hotel manager! (maybe to keep you from giving bad directions). I could never be a concierge because, first of all, I can never remember how to spell it, I don’t know left from right or my directions and I can’t draw either. I’m sunk on every level.

Please leave a comment. I need help finishing my sentences.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s