I don’t quite know what it is, but I’m often spurred on to start weird conversations with Ryan in the mornings while I get ready for work. That’s not to say that weird conversations don’t take place all throughout my day…maybe they’re just prolonged in the morning? Maybe Ryan plays into the conversation more? Or maybe mornings are when I’m at my peak. Whatever the reason, rarely does a day go by when a conversation doesn’t take place that I’m sure makes Ryan beg the question “Why did I marry her?”
A prime example of this type of conversation took place a few days ago. To give you a little back story, we were both getting ready for work and Ryan had left a bun out on the counter and just sort of walked away from it. When I asked him about it, he said he was going to use it for his lunch, to which I advised maybe he shouldn’t bring a lunch that day since it was his last day at work and maybe his boss (who’s was actually a friend before he became a boss) would take him out to lunch as a “Thanks for doing a bang-up job!”. (Ryan was leaving on pretty amicable terms as he’s going back to school, so they don’t hate him). Anyways, the following conversation ensued…
Me: Maybe you shouldn’t bring a sandwich today. Because if you bring one, and then Sean takes you out for lunch, the sandwich is going to go bad.
Ryan: Okay?? (as in, what’s your point?)
Me: Well the thing is, when you chose to buy the 20 friggin’ pounds of lunch meat you promised that you were going to eat it all. And I know you keep your promises – so if you were to bring a sandwich today and don’t eat it because Sean takes you out for lunch and then the sandwich goes bad from being in a warm car for several hours out of the day and you eat it, it would probably make you sick and you’d throw up right away.
Ryan: Yeah, I probably would throw up if I ate a rotten sandwich. But I wouldn’t eat a rotten sandwich.
Me: BUT, if you bring the sandwich and it goes bad you’d have to eat it because otherwise you’d be breaking your promise. And then, when you throw it back up almost instantly you’d have to eat the vomit.
Me: Well, you promised to eat the meat, and it doesn’t count if you eat it and then throw it back up right away. I promised to love and to keep you forever, but if I throw you* up I’m not just going to leave you on the floor/in the toilet/in the trash recepticle/on the side of the road/in the back of the cab, etc etc.
Ryan: What’s happening here? I would not eat a rotten sandwich and I certainly would not eat my own vomit.
Me: Well, to be fair, you’d only have to eat the part of the vomit that contained the meat. You didn’t make any promises about eating the bun. But okay, what if you were stranded on an island that had nothing on it…no food to eat, no animals to catch and no resources you could use to build a trap to catch some water animals** ,but some weird virus invaded your body and you started throwing up. If your vomit was the only thing to eat to keep you alive the extra day it would take for rescue to come and get you, wouldn’t you eat the vomit?
Ryan: I’m not stranded on an island, so I don’t need to answer that.
Me: YOU WOULDN”T EAT THE VOMIT!? So basically what you’re saying is that you would rather DIE because you wouldn’t eat your own vomit than ever see ME your WIFE ever again?
Me: Maybe it’s better if you don’t answer that.
*this is a metaphor, people!
** also known as fish
Today’s entry has several valuable lessons:
1. Don’t buy the meat if you aren’t prepared to eat it. (even if it means eating the vomit-version of it)
2. Never make a promise to me unless you’re prepared to take it to an extreme (or rather, have me take it to an extreme on your behalf and then expect you to know what the hell I’m talking about)
3. Avoid me in the mornings. At all costs.