Yippppeeee! Tomorrow is marital counseling day! I love marital counseling day. It is the day that Mike and I go sit awkwardly on a couch and discuss the things that annoy us about each other so we don’t get divorced. For instance, I recently learned it bugs the living shit out of Mike that I am not strict about the girls’ bed times because it infringes on our “alone time”. I am making a conscious effort to think about working on this. On the other hand, I was able to communicate to Mike that it makes me want to punch him in the head when he chews next to me and that I know exactly how many bites it takes for him to masticate a carrot over my head when I am trying to write. But one of my favorite parts of therapy is remembering the things we actually like about each other! For instance, I happen to fall in love with Mike all over again whenever we are at an airport because it reminds me of the time he ran over a dead bird with my suitcase.
7 years ago we were on our way back from our honeymoon. Our flight had been delayed, it was late at night, we both had to work the next day and I accidentally forgot where we parked the car at Denver International Airport. Mike was pulling my gigantic suitcase and I was following behind with his tiny, little, itty, bitty carry-on. He was becoming increasingly agitated as we walked up and down the rows of cars in the parking garage, holding the keys up and trying to listen for a beep. I was like “Calm down Italian, it didn’t drive away. It is here somewhere.” He was like “I cannot believe you did not write this down. Blah, blah, blah. We need to call security. Blah, blah, blah.” Admittedly, I was amused by our first marital spat and was struggling to keep up with him because I kept laughing which only irritated him more.
And that is when he did it. HE ran over a squished pigeon with my suitcase. I heard a thump-thump and gasped in horror as I realized what my crazed lunatic of a HUSBAND just did. Omg. EEEEEEEW. I screamed, “Mike you just ran over a dead bird with my suitcase!!!!” He huffed “No, I didn’t. That was just some tar.” “Um, YES you did and it was f*&%ing disgusting.” Still totally preoccupied with finding the car, he said distractedly “I think I would KNOW if I ran over a bird, where the f*&% is the car?” I snapped back “Mike, tar does not have a beak and feathers. I am sooooooooooo grossed out right now, I don’t know how I am going to get over this.” We found the car (just like I had been saying we would all along). We got in. I calmly said “Mike that really was a dead bird.” He gritted his teeth and said “I am going to go find that g-damn thing just so you will shut up.”
So in the middle of the night, we rolled our windows down and slowly circled the parking garage until we found IT. Mike stopped the car and we both climbed out to investigate the suspicious mound stuck to the concrete floor, eerily illuminated by the florescent lighting above. Mike laughed and said “Hmmmm, well I’ll be damned. It really was a bird.” Fucking duh. Oh well, I wasn’t really mad because this incident set a precedent for something I have discovered to be factual, time and time and time again: Mike can occasionally be funny and I am ALWAYS right. I cannot wait for tomorrow!!! XO