“There I was, up to my elbows in dog food, hoping to make him love me.”
I wrote that two years ago as the beginning of a story I was going to tell, and never did. Now seems like a good day to post it.
When Rob got Matty (shortly after I met him) he inherited a gigantic dog food container. It belonged to his sister, but she’d started to cook for her dog and didn’t need it any more. There was a scoop with it that he stored in the container, and sometimes he’d forget to take the scoop out before he filled it up with new dog food, thus burring it under fifty pounds of kibble. One time he did this right before a long shift at work when I was scheduled to feed Matty for him, and he called to let me know I should just “eyeball” the food because the scoop was way at the bottom. I, being ridiculously in love with him and hopeful that I could win his love back, thought I would reach in and get it, and then he would be so grateful that he’d love me, marry me, and I’d get to have his babies. Love is not a rational thing.
The smell was awful because the dog food was fresh (and this was back when Rob was buying the cheap stuff which is horrendous), but I dug deep, wiggling my fingers through greasy kibbles, all the way to the bottom. I was half way down when I stopped and realized I was being crazy. “Let him get his own scoop,” I thought. “He’s not going to fall in love with me if I do this.” I pulled my arms out and washed them off, fed Matty and stormed out of the apartment totally pissed at myself.
Clearly it was the right move.
And so, on this day when everyone is saying what they are thankful for, I am thankful that I have Rob (and Matty, and now Leeloo and Tino!) and that he usually remembers to take the scoop out first before he pours in the dog food now, and that if he doesn’t, he gets it out himself. I’m doubly thankful that I don’t have to resort to levels of ridiculousness to feel like I’m blipping on his radar. I’m also thankful that he’ll walk to the store that’s six blocks away, in the rain, past the one right around the corner, because they’re the only ones that have the right kind of pie tins; that he’ll go to the store again to get the one thing I thought I had for baking, but forgot, even though he asked before leaving the first time, “Are you sure you have everything?” and I was all, “Pshh! Yeah!” I’m thankful he takes the time to be way affectionate through it all, even when I’m crazy making five pies, and that he deals with my blasting of Christmas music a few days earlier than I promised I would (I tried to hold out until Friday, I really did, but I was baking and it seemed so apropos!).
I’m really, really thankful that we get to live together for always. It is awesome.