Marital advice that you probably shouldn't take

     My husband is so annoying. He insists on spending time with me on, like, a daily basis. What's even worse is that he does not consider sitting in compatible silence while staring at the television to be a quality married couple activity. I have systematically ruled out many of his "Let's spend time together" suggestions. I refuse to carry a kayak over a mile (uphill OR downhill) to navigate a river sporting any sort of classification. "It's only a Class 2," he yelled, as I barreled backwards down the rapids. Rock climbing is out and NOT just because I get dirt caked under my fingernails. You'd think Brad would rule that one out himself as I tend to giggle at the required vocabulary, replacing "on belay" with the Speedy Gonzalez alternative of "andale." Also, my miniscule attention span doesn't exactly inspire confidence when I am singularly responsible for keeping my husband from plummeting sixty-five feet  from the rockface. This lack of focus and motivation ruined our puzzle-putting together "fun" too. Turns out bike riding wasn't going to work when Brad had to pedal home and get the truck after I got tired. I excel at eating out at restaurants but Brad ruins that fun by showing me the bill each time. He is such a kill-joy.

     Today, despite my exhaustion of having worked four hours teaching summer school, I rallied and suggested we go for a little hike with the dogs. For some sick reason, unbeknownst to me, Brad thought it would be a good idea to let me determine our route. The last time that happened, we ended up canoeing through an excrement-filled canal on a hot August day. I naively believe that tractor-forged trails ramble on forever and am quite shocked when they mysteriously stop as though Scotty beamed up the transported tractor. So...now what? Turn back? No. That is not the Mosiman way. I plunged ahead into the wild weedy bush, cutting my own trail and immediately stumbled into a swamp. (Sort of) Following me, Brad managed to avoid a murky ankle bath but his poor choice of wardrobe cost him as sharp blades of tall grass and thorny weeds wrecked havoc on his bare legs. I gallantly and gracefully surged ahead of him again to blaze a painfree path but his trust issues prevented him from following me to the middle of a plowed up potato field. I was amazed at how well my little dachshund was holding up to this grueling adventure. While normally she resists the leash, Chlo kept up so beautifully that I barely knew she was there. Well...that's because she WASN'T there. I was holding one of those invisible starched leash/collar combinations that people with too much money and no imagination buy for their children at the fair. "Chlo! Chlo!" I cried in a panic, backtracking until I found my swamp-soaked, dirt-encrusted dachshund waiting for my inevitable return. Cradling Chloe in my arms, I managed to find my husband and we trekked home.

     I observed Brad's scratched-up legs as I cleaned up Chlo. Does every married couple experience this amount of hardship and difficulty in trying to spend quality time together? As I scraped inches of mud out of my sneakers, I pondered the next bonding activity that my husband and I could enjoy together when I was interrupted by a discreet cough. I looked up questioningly at Brad. "Let's go watch some TV," he said. "Bonanza's on." It was so magical. It was the episode where Little Joe's thumb is held for ransom. I love spending time with my husband.