“I can fix that,” Ted states.
This four-word phrase — stolen from the 2003 film, Holes — is a staple at our house. Much like Texas Pete’s hot sauce and duct tape, Ted keeps it handy. It’s a mantra he’s made his own.
And who benefits from it the most? Well, aside from his very fortunate employer, that would be me.
No matter what the problem is — be it a glitch on my laptop or an infestation of mice — Ted’s 95% likely to right whatever’s wrong. In our 13+ years of marriage, I’ve found it doesn’t take much for me to launch him into action.
But, as Yoda might say, wield wisely this power I must.
You see, sometimes my confession of a problem isn’t cut and dry. Sometimes I’m not merely looking for a quick fix. Instead, there’s a sinful edge to my cry for help.
How so? Well, I too often fall prey to the emotional vent.
Okay, so maybe “fall prey” attributes too much innocence on my part. The truth is, I often jump, feet first, into ranting my emotions — good, bad, and sometimes ugly — about a situation or individual to Ted. Why? One, I know he’ll listen and love me regardless of what words escape my mouth. Two, I can almost guarantee he’ll forget 75% of what I’ve said by breakfast the next day.
Except, to put it in a Dr. Seuss sort of way, when he doesn’t.