I know I’ve been neglecting my blog posting here of late again, but I have an excuse…er, explanation. Several, in fact. Silly things breed like drunken, teenage rabbits on Viagra and meth.
Excuse/explanation number one: Work. Need I say more? Apparently, yes, I must. Being a claims adjuster is not an occupation for the easily stressed, offended or grossed out. One of these days, I will get around to writing an insider’s guide to the claims process for the uninitiated in the hopes that it will dissuade some poor idiot from yelling “I’ll get a lawyer and sue your a**.” The last quarter of the year is always the busiest time of year. Everyone wants to settle their claims or get their invoices paid so that they can have Christmas money or close out their books for the year. And they want it done RIGHT the HE** NOW!!!! There seems to be a universal belief among claimants and vendors that they are the only person/company I am dealing with and calling and emailing repeatedly several times a day will yield faster results. It will. It will completely grind my voicemail and email inboxes to a stop at the speed of light. There is a fine line between sufficient work to maintain job security and too much work to be productive thus leading to job termination due to ineffectiveness. I am so standing on that line right now. With a landmine under my feet.
Explanation/Excuse number two: The bathroom. When not waiting on the Queen hand and foot or earning a living, I am trying to rebuild the master bathroom from scratch which has been sans shower since the “Now You See It, Now You Don’t…” post in November. If I am seen after normal work hours without a hammer or other suitable construction tool in my hand, I get raised eyebrows and cross looks from the Queen who wants to have her bathroom back in one piece so she is not assaulted by all the chemical smells which were once safely trapped by layers of tile and mortar.
Excuse/Explanation number three: Our Anniversary. Monday was the sixth anniversary of the Queen’s and my glorious entrance into wedded bliss. As we enter into the seventh year of our marriage, I find myself wondering what the whole seven year itch thing is supposed to be about. I probably wouldn’t know it if it jumped up an’ bit me on the butt. Which is probably for the best.
Given the Queen’s ongoing health challenges, I’ve tried to make this anniversary as special as possible within the limitations imposed upon us (i.e. can’t go out in public for fear of being exposed to pneumonia or swine flu or something equally enjoyable…again). Nothing quite takes the joy out of fine restaurant dining like being forced to wear a self contained bunny suit made of latex. I know it sounds like it would be fun and kinky, but we’re just not into that sort of thing.
So, what is a loyal and faithful servant/husband to do? Cater to his Queen’s every desire of course. First, there were the two dozen roses. Always a must for any anniversary going experience. Then there was the dinner. We had home cooked filet mignon with garlic mashed taters and gravy with oven roasted veggies followed by her favorite strawberries and cream for dessert.
But, wait, there’s more. We can’t have an anniversary without a truly unique gift or experience. Now, I know there are some truly sensitive men out there who feel that giving his spouse a vacuum cleaner or a new dishwasher for their anniversary is the absolute pinnacle of loving thoughtfulness. Let me tell you, these paragons of marital bliss have nothing on me. If you really want to endear yourself to your spouse, nothin’ says good lovin’ like …. wait for it …. a colon hydrotherapy session. I spared no expense on my lovely copper topped bride. Only the very best in organic coffee colonics would do for her.
As is the defense of every vacuum cleaner giving man on the planet, she really did ask for it.