Thursday, April 23, 2009

I Don't Get It

Sometimes I don’t understand my husband. Here is a guy who once scored “genius” on an IQ test, beat his entire family at Trivial Pursuit when he was nine years old, and can figure out a complex conversion of one type of computer file to another in mere minutes—

But for some reason, he still cannot figure out how to set the timer on our new microwave. And this is not rocket science, people—there are only a couple of buttons to push. But for some reason, this is a challenge to Iwanski. The same thing happened when we used to have to record t.v. shows on our VCR—I always had to program the VCR, because Iwanski was not comfortable with that whole process. Thank God that we now have Tivo—the easiest and best TV tool ever. But don’t even get me started on how wonderful Tivo is, because I won’t shut up about it. Seriously.

Anyway, in addition to the VCR and the microwave timer, Iwanski also has a hands-off relationship with our clock radio. I swear, I don’t know what he’d do if I didn’t program the alarm to go off each morning. He’d probably never wake up.

Seriously, I know that Iwanski could figure these appliances out very easily if he really wanted to—but somehow he has a mental block against it. I just don’t get it.

I have a secret, though—I kinda like the fact that he asks me to do these things for him. It makes me feel smart. And I like to feel smart, so I don’t complain about it.

But I can still complain about the balled-up socks that appear on the living room floor every night, and the shaving stubble that always seems to end up all over my makeup sponge. Tell me, how can it be that he prepares for shaving by spreading a big beach towel across the entire bathroom counter, and still, shaving stubble ends up all over the countertop? He says that the stubble must just “jump around” on its own, but I highly doubt it—unless it’s magic stubble.

Magic stubble. What would be the point in that?

I guess I just have to face the fact that I live with a hairy man who doesn’t know how to set the alarm.

But at least he makes me laugh.

11 comments:

Random Thinker said...

Before you push the microwave buttons for him do you pat him on the head and say "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." I would if it were me.

sageweb said...

How sweet, you know I pretend I don't know how to cook when I get a girlfriend. It makes her feel good that she can feed me and all I have to do is the dishes.

Buck said...

You should write a whole blog about how wonderful TIVO is.

Sling said...

It's cell phones for me.I'm totally intimidated by them.
On the rare occasions I try to use one,some one has to give me a ten minute block of instructions.

rosemary said...

Steve is exactly the same way...brilliant man who was in MENSA...cannot record a program on the DVR....and when he tries to play and then fast forward thru the commercials...he screws it up. Can't figure out the washer, voice mail or how to buy a handbag for me when i send him every detail including the link.

Lisa said...

You both make me laugh! I relate to that "married to a hairy man" situation. Totally.

Diane said...

Hey, some day when I find my husband all I hope is that he is socially and emotionally intelligent!

jp said...

You just don't understand, MHP. I can shave in the bathroom and find shavings in the mailbox. 3 days later.

They're everywhere.

Fantastic Forrest said...

Stubble expands in mysterious ways, like tribbles.

Men who make one laugh are worth all the microwave and alarm clock setting one must do for them.

Laughter is all.

Maria said...

I cannot tape anything. This is why there will be lots of bitching when Bing gets home from South Carolina on a Friday at 8:30, right smack dab in the middle of Moonlight on the SciFi channel.

Jeanna said...

It took me seven years to figure out my clock radio and that was only with directions. And I've already forgotten.