Corey and I have learned a few things about ourselves that aren't necessarily good. Still, it is what it is and we must accept these truths and adapt to them.
Mo - I am apparently 5 years old. Over the last month, I have literally lost one of the gloves from four, yes four sets. Clearly the only way to handle this truth is to buy some yarn and connect the pair of gloves together so that they don't get lost. Once I'm out of the cold safely with both gloves, I will take a big safety pin and attach it to my coat. I am now down to my last pair of thin, oversized set. With spring just around the corner it's pointless to buy new ones, so I will freeze for a few more weeks, but that's the consequences for being careless. That and a time out in the corner.
I've also recently accepted that I am a walking magnet for shit to happen. Yes, I know Corey's the one that fell recently, but somehow that was the universe being altered for that one day. That regular role belongs to me. Yesterday I was waiting for the train to come. I was leaning against a wall at the Belmont el stop and as I got up I hear the distinct sound of leather peeling off of wet paint. It's not like I leaned up against a pole or there were signs up. There was literally one small space, inside an empty frame that probably used to hold a poster or ad. Somehow I found this small area and plastered my back right against it. Ruined my good coat. I was of course upset and apparently distracted because when I got off the train, just a couple stops later, I left my hat on the El. What is going on? Oh yeah, I'm 5 and not old enough to handle the responsibilites of owning winter gear.
Corey - He is apparently blind oh and a little retarded. It's a cliche really. Most wives would tell you that their husbands aren't good at looking for stuff.
"Where's the aspirin?"
"In the cabinet on the left side."
"No it's not..."
and the wife gets up from what ever she was busy doing to go to the cabinet and get the aspirin from the left side, RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS FACE. Well, Corey took this to a new level today.
I usually wake up right as he's leaving for work. This morning I woke up to him frantically cussing and looking all around the bedroom. He couldn't find his wallet. I woke up and we continued to tear the house apart, checked his pockets on the clothes he was wearing the night before, looked in his coat and even checked weird places like the fridge, just in case he accidentally put it in there ala a Cosby Show episode (remember when Vanessa left her report in the freezer? Anyone? No? Well, it was a good episode, trust me). The last he remembered having it was at the grocery store the night before, from there he came straight home. We called the store and no one had turned it in. At this point, he was starting to get nauseous. He's also going to be late for work. I'd pretty much given up on getting to work on time myself. So, we headed outside because we figured the only place it could be was in between the car and the house or the store and the car. Of course it snowed again last night, so we swept our feet across the sidewalk, pretty much shoveling the sidewalk looking for this thing. Then we drove to the store, because even though when we called they hadn't seen it, we thought we'd take a look ourselves. At this point Corey was at a "level 5 1/2" on a scale of 1-10 of "i'm going to vomit." We got out of the car and walk up to the front door and suddenly Corey stops. With his hands casually placed in his coat pocket, I see the look on his face and all he does is turn around 180 degrees. "It's in your pocket, isn't it?" And of course it was. All along, it was in his pocket, where he had "looked" several times.
I guess I shouldn't give him a hard time. It's hard having a disabililty and clearly the only way to handle this truth is to get a seeing eye dog or like me, safety pin his wallet to his coat. As a supportive wife I need to encourage him to reach for the stars and that even with his special needs he can be anything he wants, just not on time for work.