Just as we were finishing dinner the other night, we noticed the trees beyond our sliding glass doors swirling madly in the wind. As the sky devolved into an eerie green, we turned on the tv to check for storm warnings. Sure enough, we were under a severe-weather alert. My husband covered the barbecue grill to protect it from ‘hail and damaging winds’.
Soon afterward, we heard the tornado sirens begin to wail, so we grabbed a couple of flashlights, some reading material and a cell phone, and went to the basement. (Are we a couple of risk-takers, or what?)
As I opened a few folding chairs for us, I noticed that the ‘full’ light on the dehumidifier was on, so I asked my hubby if he would mind emptying the unit before he sat down.
“There’s a tornado warning!” he protested.
Right. That is why we are in the basement, I explained. It’s also why it’s damp down here.
“What if a tornado hits and we’re trapped here. It could be days before we’re found. We may need to drink that water to survive.”
Yes, but if we’re found dead here your mother and the whole world will notice that we hadn’t emptied the dehumidifier. It’ll be part of the Today show report on our cold, dead bodies. Ann Curry solemnly notes, “The dehumidifier was full.”
“So what?” Mr. Y-chromosome asked.
It reflects on my housekeeping skills. I’ll be branded a careless and sloppy homemaker, and from that they’ll conclude that I have poor personal hygiene. No one will ever believe that I floss my teeth.
“Now where do you get that?”
I know how people are. They love to gossip. They’ll have a royal time with me after this is all over.
“Assuming you’re dead.”
Of course, assuming we’re both dead. If I die and you make it, you’ll never empty the dehumidifier. But people won’t notice that. It’s not expected of the man.
“Life is unfair, I suppose. So is this like the time you left a note about permanent press in the dryer when we went out?”
Well, sure, in case we didn’t come back.
“’In case we get creamed on highway 40’, I believe your note said.”
Why should the clothes just lay there and get all wrinkled?
“Sweetheart if we’re dead, why would we care?”
Maybe the kids would want to bury us in those clothes.
“I have an idea. Let’s be buried in ‘dry clean only’. Then you don’t have to worry about it. Okay? What are you writing?”
A note to your mother and Ann Curry that says I asked you to empty the dehumidifier, but you wouldn’t.