One of the dominant genes in Husband’s family is the Male P chromosome, the P standing for Punctual. I introduced him to the Female M chromosome, the M meaning Mascara, and when he sees me putting it on my second eye he can start looking for his car keys.
Husband likes to make a show of how patiently he’s enduring the tedious process of me preparing to leave the house. He used to open a giant book in my line of vision and proceed to read while glancing up at me periodically. Over the years it’s gone down to a paperback since War and Peace failed to elicit the response he was after. I’m not sure what that response would be since I’ve always been upfront about needing one hour from waking state to out-the-door condition. It was an hour when we were dating, an hour the first seven years of marriage, and an hour as I write this. Husband may still think an hour is excessive but he can’t deny my truth in advertising.
The men in Husband’s family believe that five minutes early is practically late. For me, five minutes late is practically on time. Husband’s P chromosome has led us to arrive at weddings before the caterer. We’ve gotten to airports so early that the plane we’ll be boarding is still on the ground in another state. And yet he’s a piker compared to his father who I half expect will ask me to repeat something I haven’t said yet.
We just went down to Florida to visit Husband’s parents who are at a lovely assisted living complex for the past several years. We had an appointment with the director of the facility at 2:00 at my in-laws’ apartment. We arrived at 1:40. My father-in-law threw his hands up and said, “Where were you? When you didn’t come I canceled the appointment.” My husband looked at his watch and said, “It’s 20 minutes to two. When did you cancel?” And his father replied, “At 1:30. I called the director and told him not to come because you were running late.” Husband looked at him like, yeah, I can understand that, while back on planet Earth I’m thinking wait a minute: We’re twenty minutes early for an appointment that hasn’t happened yet that my father-in-law canceled ten minutes ago because we weren’t early enough. Is there a pill for this?
Husband went to track down the director before he left the premises completely and I sat and chatted with the in-laws who are both engaging characters. On this visit, my mother-in-law wasn’t pointing out possessions and asking me if I wanted them after she was gone which was kind of different. But they still managed to entertain me with their hard-of-hearing banter that went like this:
DAD-IN-LAW: Would you like some iced tea?
OSV: No, thanks. Mom, would you like some iced tea?
MOM-IN-LAW: You see something in my teeth?
DAD-IN-LAW: No, we’re saying do you want some iced tea.
MOM-IN-LAW: Well, if you both think there’s something in my teeth I’ll go brush them.
My father-in-law looked at me like you couldn’t make this up, could you, and I looked back at him like no, I couldn’t, but I sure can write about it.
More of Daughter’s Featured Fotos of the car that burst into flames outside DUMBO’s New York Photo Festival attended by dozens of photographers. Ironically.
