i can see the closest parking space to a location from a mile away.

i don’t usually have to drive up and down the aisles, but can peruse the parking lot situation quickly once i turn into the location.  on these brilliant, sunny days we’ve been having lately, this skill is stored in the back of my closet with the winter coats and galoshes because i don’t mind a long walk from the far end of the lot; however, with the aforementioned puffyfoot not healing like i’ve told it to a thousand times (don’t ankles ever listen!?!) and in rainy/cold weather, this skill is sharpened, honed, and ready to go.

the boy i’m married to has no such skill.

he’s like a horse with blinders on, a tunnel-visioned champ that can focus with laser-like precision on his current mission: designing a logo, building a website, and, well, parking.

the first spot he sees open (which, mind you, is usually the ONLY spot he sees open) is the one he’s pulling into, happily, while i flail about in the passenger seat, all pointer fingers and missed parking spot opportunities.

he loves driving with me.

he especially loves it when, while tapping on the brakes to avoid colliding with the car in front of us or for stopping the car in general, i suck the air out of the car and shield my eyes for the impending doom that i’m positive will commence and then insist that i’m not doing anything.

i’ve been a bit scarred by a few rear-ends.

i’ve also been a bit scarred by accidentally rear-ending a few people.  in cars.

i think it’s that second one that is responsible for the gasping for air.

poor guy.

this is the background information for what i’m about to tell you.

the boy and i were preparing a most nutritious lunch of hot dogs (mine without bun not for health reasons like i try to pretend, but just because we can’t seem to get the same amount of hot dogs and buns at the store (except in our case, we always have more hot dogs than buns).  i prefer cheese on my hot dogs, so while i laid several slices of tillamook extra sharp cheddar (i know the full names of my cheese, folks.  i’m not messing around) the boy requested that i cut him off a hunk.

i obliged and set the piece of cheese on his plate, about 6 inches from where we were standing, then switched places with him (he standing by the fridge/microwave) because our kitchen is barely a two-butt kitchen, so we have to constantly reposition ourselves if we both insist on being in there at the same time.  he immediately went to cut himself off a slice, not noticing the slice i cut for him RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS FACE, waving and holding up a neon sign, like cheese tends to do.

laughing, i put my hot dogs in the microwave above our fridge to melt the cheese, all while going into a humorous diatribe about his lack of observancy and how comical it is to me, the overly-observant.

mid-rant, i take my hot dogs out of the microwave and the cheese is gone.

as in, no sign of it on the hot dogs or plate.

we peer into the microwave.

no sign of cheese.

our next thought, which should have been that the cheese somehow fell off of my plate onto the floor, was not that.   it was this:

the microwave magically made the cheese disappear.

we’re two grown adults with two combined college degrees, owned businesses and we can tie our shoes perfectly EACH AND EVERY TIME for years, yet our brains were seriously contemplating the magic of the kitchen appliances.

it took us a few good seconds to roll around our magic microwave scenario (how did it do that?  will a rabbit appear next?  can a microwave also vaporize humans?  can we take this on the road?) before we noticed the pile of cheese on the floor, having unceremoniously tumbled off my plate while i was busy telling my dear husband how unobservant he is; the cheese, mocking me and my puffed-up observant badge of honor.   that’s how i like my irony served, friends.  with snacks.

the food got cold before we could stop laughing hard enough to eat it.

*     *     *     *     *

in other news, this time a year ago, we were practicing walking down the aisle, surrounded by friends.

tomorrow’s a good day already, i feel it.

(images via here and me, respectively)