As frequent readers of this blog know, my wife and I live in a… let’s say “interesting” apartment complex. Well tonight it finally paid off for me. Allow me to set the stage for you.

On any given day, this pattern repeats itself. I come home, do a couple of quick chores (take the dogs for a walk, take the trash out, etc) and then sit down in my recliner to unwind. It’s been a while since I’ve had a high stress job, but it’s always nice to sit down and relax after a long day. Anyway I sit down in my recliner, pull the lever to kick my feet up and set about feeding my internet addiction. Well, come to find out, the lever for my recliner is also attached to an alarm somewhere. This alarm sends out a pitch beyond the hearing of most mortals, but, apparently clear as day to my wife.

Like any good alarm, it illicits a response. In this case, the required response is for my lovely wife to ask me to do something which involved my getting up out of my soft, comfortable, and oh so inviting recliner. “Honey, can you help me move this box?” “Can you get something out of my car?” It’s hardly ever a big deal, it simply involves me getting up. It’s happened so often that I’ve started trying to game the system. I’ll sit down but won’t kick my feet up, or I’ll try to do it really really slowly. Yeah, I’ll give ya two guesses on how well that works for me.

So, tonight, we come home and after a few minutes I sit down, kick off my shoes, and recline into heavenly TV and Internet bliss. 15 seconds later, I hear “Babe?” from the kitchen.
“Can we go check the mail?” Just for the record these types of questions aren’t really questions. I’ve not been married long but I’ve learned that.
“But… but…I’ve got my shoes off?” More a pathetic grasping at straws than a valid counter point.
“So put ‘em back on” the obvious and simple, yet devastating retort.
“Hun, I just sat down and got comfortable” I don’t who I’m trying to kid… I’m reduced to whining here. It’s whining, I know I’m whining, and yet, I’m physically incapable of doing anything else at this point.
“It’s not like I did it on purpose. Please?” Once again, despite the inquisitive tone, NOT a question.
“Alright…. I guess” you didn’t honestly think that discussion would come to any other conclusion did you?

I stand up, slip my shoes on and take one step towards the door when all of the sudden what seemed like 8 police and fire sirens start to blare. Suddenly sensing a threat to her position, my wife’s back stiffens, her ears prick up, and she glares at me. It’s too late. I might be slow, but even I can sense a momentum shift of this magnitude. My eyes quickly light up as new hope springs eternal. The sirens get closer and closer until they’re nearly deafening. A police helicopter roars onto the scene and suddenly I’m 10 feet tall.
“Honey, the mail’s gonna have to wait. We’re not going out there in the middle of all this” ahh the sweet taste of victory. Talk about a comeback. I’m tempted to do a little victory dance but wisdom somehow wins out.

I sit back down and kick off my shoes and all she can do is glare. “You’re responsible for this aren’t you?” humor was obviously all she had left at this point.
“Yup, I called it in” having just fallen backwards into a win, I wasn’t exactly itching for a rematch here.

Now, what exactly was going on, we might never know. We ventured out onto the porch for a minute to try and take a look but couldn’t see much and it stunk like chemicals. My guess, some idiot blew up his meth lab but let’s be honest, I don’t much care. Whatever it was, it was big. The fire trucks and helicopter are just now leaving, nearly an hour later and I’ve been in the recliner for every blessed minute of it.

“I’m sorry babe, what’s that?” Oh… uh… I’ll have to finish this up later….

I’ve got to go check the mail.

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