The Benefits of a Sore Throat

Love is knowing when to stop fucking around with your computer so that you can devote time to brushing your wife’s hair instead. Stef is having a rough time at work and it’s not been made any easier by the fact that I am now unemployed and she is the sole breadwinner in our little family. I hate that my misfortune has put her in this position. She should be out looking for something new, something better. But she is essentially forced to stay put so that we stay out of the poor house.

After a rather depressing day yesterday I had myself quite a nice one today. Aside from a sore throat that made me sound like a twelve year old just hitting the middle of puberty and two phone conversations with the former employers, today was very productive and quite thrilling.

I sent out three resumes, registered to vote, found the local post office finally (we usually would travel two towns over to my hometown of Chelmsford to drop off our mail just because that was the only post office we knew the location of), picked up a couple of prescriptions, and even found time to take out the trash. I also picked up a copy of the Windows Xp Upgrade and decided to spend my afternoon making my ‘puter the coolest thing since sliced bread.

And it all went generally well until Stef came home from work late, as she has every day this week. She came in the door and two minutes had not passed before I was holding her while she cried her eyes out. Things are that terrible for her right now. No matter how much you accomplish in a given day and no matter how cool you think the spiffy new software you’ve installed is, nothing can prepare you for having to hold your wife while she weeps.

I remember when my grandpa passed away how my Dad held my Mom right after he told her, outside on the lawn just after she’d returned home from the flea market. I get that same feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I see Stef cry.

I think some of it is maleness. I think some of it has to do with us guys needing to be the strong ones and hating to see when something out of our control harms our woman. Maybe that’s old-fashioned. Fuck it. I don’t care. That’s what I think.

Anyway, I stopped fucking around with Xp for about twenty minutes to go into the bedroom and listen to her and brush her hair. I didn’t say much. And that was probably good. At least this sore throat is good for something. They say when a woman opens up she just wants you to listen and when a man opens up he wants you to help him fix the problem. Therein, they say, lies the primary battleground between the sexes. The guy is always offering advice when the woman just wants him to shut up and be all ears.

Yeah. Look at me. I’m even finding the positives in the ailment that is currently afflicting me. Today must’ve been a real good one.