My Guy was married before. I’ve never met his ex, and it sounds like she just wasn’t ready to be married. She was young. She didn’t know herself.
Lookit me, all Mother Teresa and shit.
So, I’m sorry that she crushed My Guy’s soul, but I also don’t lose sight of the fact that I’m the big winner here. And sooooo emotionally healthy.
So, when My Guy and I merged households (coming soon to a Hoarders episode near you), I came into some wedding gifts that weren’t from our wedding. They were from his first wedding.
Hmm. Since this means we don’t have to write thank-you notes for them, I’m cool with it.
So, yesterday, I had to take a salad to a party. And I was running late. But I figured I could be the belle of the potluck ball by taking my salad not in my hoboesque Tupperware, but in a fancy wooden salad bowl. It was part of the not-my-wedding bounty.
As I prepped the salad – running late, of course – My Guy passed through the kitchen. “Wow – if you’re using that bowl, that’s the first time it’s ever been used. My ex hated it, even though she registered for it.”
My inner Mother Teresa gave way to my typical snark. Why, it would be a cryin’ shame to have such a lovely wooden salad bowl and hate it! And not even use it once? Well, that girl was a fool. A damned fool.
I finished the salad and began covering it with self-satisfaction and Saran Wrap. And that’s when I noticed. That the bowl. Was leaking.
My homemade salad dressing was pooling on the counter, running off the edge and drooling down the cabinets. It was coming to a final rest on the floor, in front of a thrilled Lil’ Frankfurter, who was lapping it up and probably getting instant diabetes.
I stepped away from the kitchen.
I stood in the doorway to the family room.
“Just FYI,” I told my husband. “If I smoked, I would totally light up right now.”
It just seemed like the best course of action. Giving myself emphysema was far better than admitting that maybe there was a reason why My Guy’s ex left him the salad bowl.
I’m trying to figure out a way to give it to my exes.