I keep telling Melanie what a wonderful wife she’ll be. (You know she’s not here as I write this because she’d never let me post it when she’s present.)
There are many reasons, but the one most relevant to all of you is how she tempers my excesses and bad habits. Just last night I went on a little rant about somebody being too pushy and condescending and ... well, I don’t want to go on for reasons that will soon become obvious.
Melanie looked up from her grading and just smiled a little bit at me as I went on. It was a particular smile, one eyebrow raised a little, her head tilted to the side. I knew what it meant. “You think I do the same thing,” I said defensively. I tried to distance myself from the unspoken accusation, giving all kinds of reasons why I’m different from the one I was upset with, but she wasn’t budging. And I knew she was right. It didn’t stop me from trying once again to deny the truth, to “nuance” what I was saying so that I could be self-righteous with having to admit my own error. Eventually I just stopped, shook my head, ruefully said, “Pot, this is the kettle. You’re black,” and went back to the computer.
And she didn’t have to say a word.
Like I said, she’s going to be a wonderful wife.
