Temper, temper

After another weekend involving some frustration over our similarities*, I shared with my spouse that unless he wants to pencil in the very first knock down drag out no hold barred bring out the big guns quarrel of our marriage I recommended in the strongest possible terms that we get on the stick about installing a wireless network.

He looked thoughtful for a moment and said he would do it tomorrow.

I pointed out that if he did it tomorrow then neither of us could work while he was installing things and debugging things and cursing Bill Gates' name and descendants and otherwise swearing in the seven languages in which he can swear.

He looked more thoughtful and said he would do it this week.

Quite possibly the only person on earth who respects the extremities to which their spouse might go in a fit of real temper more than I do, is Dearly Beloved.

So I expect he will do it. This is a good thing because if I actually expressed the annoyance I have felt for the last several days we might see an earthquake in Alaska.

Oh, really? Whoops.

*to wit: when we have work to do we both expect to sit down and do it without stopping and furthermore expect that somebody else, that is, the other one, entertain the children and shove food at them every two hours. The problems of this obsessive style of operating are obvious if you both want to work and you have only one computer.