Smells like April Fool's Day

I would say that the April Fool’s prank I pulled on the Husband this year was an overall success, in that the Husband was subjected to a mild amount of discomfort and brief confusion while I could be found giggling in a darkened hallway. It does not, however, mean that there were exclamations of surprise or frustration or accusation. It has taken me a few years to accept this, but the Husband is not prone to voicing matters in boisterous bursts of emotion. He is more “calculating” (his word for it).

Indeed he is. Allow me to tell you the story now.

I figured I should leave his toothbrush alone this year and turn instead to his hygiene of the body. I took his ever faithful bar of soap out of the shower, found my ever faithful bottle of clear nail polish, and painted that Irish Spring with a few coats of ever loving April Fools.

After I was done I stood back and examined my handiwork and was quite impressed. There was no way that sucker was going to lather, although now it smelled more like nail polish than soap but that was an inconsequential detail for sure. Visions of the Husband trying his darndest to get that soap to clean himself made me break out in fits of premature laughter. This was going to work!

So later that night, when the Husband was properly sweated out from an intense game of basketball, I knew he would head off to the shower. I got my camera ready. I sat in the hallway, with only the light of the bathroom gleaming under the doorway. It brought back memories of the salted toothbrush prank of yesteryear and I wished for a louder exclamation this time around. Oh that would be joyous indeed. I heard the shower water turn on and I hit record on the camera just in case I was able to capture sudden shouts of frustration that I would be able to playback and listen to over and over and over to my heart’s content!

I listened for signs of a struggle, huge sighs, the soap being thrown against the wall . . . anything. Any sign that something was amiss in his regular showering routine. But there was nothing. Just the sound of water. This continued on for minutes. I thought maybe he hadn’t gotten around to the soap yet and was taking an extra long time with the shampoo. Or maybe somehow against all odds he had managed to create soap lather! Or maybe he wasn't even in the shower at all and was actually standing right behind me! (I checked. He wasn't). And just when I was entering the pit of despair I heard the shower curtain open and a drawer pulled open. I peeked under the door to see the Husband’s wet feet standing on the bathmat. Then I heard him unwrapping another bar of soap. I almost lost it! I had to flee from the hallway lest he hear me giggling. By the time I returned he had jumped back in the shower, cold and shivering no doubt! I think at this point my prank deserves at least three exclamation points!!! Thank you.

After fully relishing the moment, I decided I should probably leave, gain my composure, and wait for the aftermath. So I went to the living room and appeared to be doing something productive on the computer. Within a few minutes the Husband returned freshly showered, with just the slight smell of nail polish wafting behind him. He said nothing to me. Just went to the fridge for a snack.

That’s when I noticed an Irish Spring soap box tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. What the devil is this crazy person doing I thought? After a few minutes of silence he went into the bathroom closest to the living room and locked the door. He came back out after a few seconds and said he was going to bed. I quickly ran into the bathroom to see what he was up to and my instinct told me "the trash can!" There hidden deep under a mound of tissues I found the box of soap. I opened it up and found a very sad looking bar that appeared to be peeling and mutilated. I screamed and told the Husband he was a wacka doo. Why did he hide the soap?! Why did he not confront me?! WHY OH WHY?!

This was the response I received: He said for a split second he thought maybe the soap had dried out, but then he realized that was silly because he had used the soap the previous day and soap doesn’t dry out in a day? Does it ever dry out was my question. Then he said he knew I had done something to the soap because it wouldn’t lather and it smelled like nail polish remover. He attempted to rub it until it lathered, with no success. Then he tried peeling off the outside layer. Then he finally decided he didn’t want to rub that soap on his body, not knowing what I had done to it so he got out of the shower and got a new bar. And all of this he did without uttering a single word. Not even a grunt! Not even a whistle! He also said he didn’t want to give my prank notice so he packaged up the old soap and threw it away just to toy with me. Calculating indeed.

But I am satisfied with the outcome despite his attempts to completely pretend like it didn’t happen. I will forever remember those cold wet feet of the Husband’s standing on that fuzzy bathmat, knowing full well that in his mind he is yelling “Wife! Is there no end to your madness?!” And that is enough for me. Yes, plenty enough.

Like I said, that's nothing to sneeze at.

Today I realized something as I browsed through past posts (while rocking back and forth in a corner) and it is that this blog of mine has powers. One of which is the power to make my life easier. Easier = better.

Please allow me to explain. Some of you may know this already, but the life of an unrealistic perfectionist, such as myself, is fraught with disappointments and frustrations. It's frightful. Messed up plans. Unchecked lists. Magnified control issues. Furrowed brows.

Yes, I've got plenty of things that furrow the brow.

So anytime I can muster the strength and just let things happen the way they will happen with nary a peep from moi, I pat myself on the back and give myself a piece of chocolate.

But as you may have guessed, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve patted my own back while eating chocolate.

And that’s just the way it is. Can’t teach this old broad new tricks.

So when I’m not trying to loosen my death grip on life (which is pretty much most of the time), I’m embracing my full blown obsessive compulsive ways. This blog is helping me streamline that though which is nothing to sneeze at. Good job blog. Streamlining is a perfectionist’s nirvana, and will probably save me hours of planning and worry.

For example, I recorded on November 15, 2010 my travails with mold and bleach. Well, today I had to repeat the process. So now I know in exactly 191 days I will need to re-bleach. It’s already on the calendar.

Also, historically I can never pull off an April Fool’s joke. This is well documented here. Thank you blog. But sometimes there is hilarity in failing, as that post proved. And as of right now, I know I can never use anything related to teeth brushing again to pull a prank on the Husband because failing is rarely funny the second time around.

Confession: I thought maybe I could make this work again anyway. My brain said it would be wonderful if I could. Oh how I hoped! But it’s impossible. I know this FOR SURE now because I already tried a second go. This time a raisin in toothpaste.

I waiting patiently outside the door just like last time. Except it was really, really awesomely pathetic. All the Husband's fault. So I didn’t even bother to blog about it. Next time I can just assume a third go at it will be even more disastrously unworthy of my energy. I've learned my lesson. Save myself some time!

And now I have at least five extra minutes to do something else, like rotate underwear. Again, thanks blog. That is a treasure trove of history and teaching moments right there.

Go ahead. Give me any post I’ve written and I can tell you exactly how that has helped me become an even better perfectionist.

Gosh blog! Who knew?

Can't fool this one, cuz he doesn't know he's getting fooled

As some of you may know or have already deciphered, the Husband and I have about one thing in common. We’re both quirky. And that’s where our list of personality similarities fizzles to an end (okay fine you might want to add stubborn, controlling, and pig-headed to that list). I’m sensitive. He’s not. I’m a worrier. He’s not. I like artsy stuff. He couldn’t care less. I like to spend money on clothes when I can. He definitely does not. Currently he is cycling through the two pairs of decent pants he owns. I like to plan things. He usually flies by the seat of his pants. I’m pretty observant. He is not observant, at least not to the same things I am.

Sometimes I can and do use these differences to my advantage. Sometimes it creates a much needed balance. And other times, it just makes for a frustrating but comical relationship. Case in point, my latest April Fool’s joke.

Let me set up the scene. It’s March 31st, about 11:30 PM. I’m trying to think of something totally bizarre to do to the Husband when it is officially April 1st in half an hour. I don’t want the joke to be mean, and I don’t want it to be dangerous. That cuts out about 78% of the ideas I have floating around in this here brain of mine. I’m wandering around the house looking for some spark of brilliancy. That’s when I set sight on our salt shaker. From then on out it’s a done deal. Salt + toothbrush=funny.

The Husband is busy watching some Nova program so he is in a deep intellectual zone. I’ve got free reign. I smuggle the salt shaker into the bathroom and painstakingly arrange salt crystals on his toothbrush. I wet the toothbrush to help the salt stick better, hoping the Husband won't notice his brush has been freshly moistened. The light is glinting off the salt no matter how carefully I arrange it. I think for sure he will notice this. Most people look at their toothbrush before putting it in their mouth. At least this was my thinking. I should have been thinking in Husband brain waves though. Really that would have saved me a whole lot of time and effort.

By the time I am done with my deed, the Husband is ready to hit the sack. I listen outside the bathroom door, just giddy with my own devilish ways. I hear him start brushing his teeth. I start giggling under my breath with a little snort I try to stifle. If you can somehow in your mind picture a maniacal redhead, crouching in a dark hallway, while light is gleaming from underneath a closed door, that is pretty much the exact scene.

But the Husband is still brushing his teeth. I am waiting for an extreme reaction like, “What the heck! Salt! Wife!Why I oughtta!” Or even a choking, gagging sound. Instead all I hear is the movement of bristles, just the calm gentle sounds of someone brushing their teeth for two whole minutes. He’s a very diligent brusher I must give him that. But what’s wrong with his sense of taste, I start to wonder. Then I start thinking the salt trick is a bust. I must not have put enough on to pierce his taste buds of steel. I sulk out of the hallway, saddened by my flub of a joke.

But I’m not easily defeated. I decide to try the salt in one more place he is sure to go. I sneak in to the kitchen and pour a good helping of salt into the glass he’d been drinking from. It’s fairly obvious there is salt at the bottom so I pour some water in to dissolve it. I’m about 98% positive (these percentages are extremely accurate) that he will disregard the fact that there is stagnant water in the cup and just opt to fill it up all the way before he drinks his ritual “before bed glass of water.”

I hear the bathroom door open. And before I know it I’m face to face with the Husband. He mentions nothing of tasting salt on his toothbrush. No matter. He’s sure to taste something this time. My eyes widen in satisfaction. I’m about to bust up laughing so I retreat to the stairs where I kneel down out of view. Any minute now. Just as I thought; he overlooks the water that is already in the cup and fills it up the rest of the way. Then I hear him take one big gulp. Wait for it. Wait for it. There’s about to be salt water all over the wall. But then I hear him take another gulp. And another gulp. Then I hear him fill the glass up again and resume his gulping.

This is when I start to realize the possibility that the Husband is a spy, and he has trained his body to counter the ill-effects of high sodium intake. Not only is this guy privy to Top Secret Missions and lying to me about it, but I’ve been cooking dinner for him for the past five plus years. All those worries of food poisoning were for naught. And no wonder he’s adamant about owning a gun and a Crown Victoria. Flashes of True Lies, Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis come to mind. And then I resolve with myself that I will not be so cliché. I will not be recruited and become a super sexy spy husband and wife team. I just won’t do it. Not even Brangelina style.

I escape to the bedroom and await the Husband’s return. I thought for sure this was a clever prank. Not clever enough for a spy though. Then it all just seems so hilarious. I can no longer contain myself, and I start laughing uncontrollably the minute he walks in. The Husband is used to me doing things like this, but that doesn’t stop him from asking me what’s so funny. That’s when I tell him the whole sordid story of the previous half hour. The toothbrush. The salt. The cup. The salt. Then what he tells me is funnier than any April Fool’s reaction I could have imagined.

The Husband did indeed brush his teeth with the salted toothbrush. And he did indeed taste the salt. But his first reaction was not that I was the culprit. Instead he thought that he had eaten something really salty the last time he brushed his teeth, and it was residual saltiness. Then he thought maybe he had some sort of medical condition that made you taste salt. Then he thought the brand of toothpaste was now being produced with salt in it. The workings of this man’s mind! Never once did he think that his dear old wife was up to no good. If I tasted salt on my toothbrush, he would be the first on my list. Also I would have seen the salt on my brush because those are the sorts of things I observe.

Then regarding the cup of water, he said it definitely tasted salty which only reaffirmed his belief that he had a medical condition. He thought he needed to seriously cut back on sodium in his diet. As to why he kept drinking it, he said he poured the rest out (I did not hear him do this). If that is even true, still wouldn’t a person exclaim something like, “What’s with all the salt!” I would have. And I would have spit it out in the Husband's face too because he can’t get anything by me. I'm super suspicious which he obviously is not. No, instead he keeps his thoughts to himself. He doesn't even bother to tell me that he is possibly afflicted with some salt disease. These are things a wife would like to know, even though I know the real cause.

Now as far as April Fool’s jokes go, it would have been funny to enrage the Husband and have him shout out in surprise and disgust. But the fact that my husband is so not observant actually makes this joke all the more satisfying. We both laughed until we cried and had to blow our noses. Like I said, a frustrating but comical relationship, and dare I say enjoyable.

Mom? Did you pee your pants?