Here’s a good old-fashioned Foldedspace post for you long-time readers who pine for them.
Last weekend I exercised my heart out. On Saturday I went for a 12 mile run and a 29 mile bike ride. Before my ride with Paul and Susan, I prepped my bike for the road.
“That’s strange,” I said as I futzed with the gear. “I can’t find my bike computer.”
“What’s a bike computer?” Kris asked. How long has she lived with me? And she still doesn’t know what a bike computer is?
“It’s a little square electronic device that straps to the handlebars,” Susan explained. “It tracks how far you’ve gone and how long you’ve been on the bike. It’s pretty cool.”
“And I can’t find mine,” I said. “Somebody has misplaced it.” I didn’t name names, but I knew that I had left it on the kitchen table, but it wasn’t there now. I went for the ride without it.
On Wednesday, I paid bills. Kris and I have gotten in the habit of paying our mortgage a month early (and we pay a little extra to principal, too). This makes us feel good. But it also means we received June’s bill in mid-April. That, too, I had left on the kitchen table, but now that it was time to pay it, I couldn’t find it.
“Do you know where the mortgage bill is?” I e-mailed Kris. “I want to pay it, but somebody has misplaced it.” I was pretty cranky actually. First the bike computer and now the mortgage bill. I looked online. I could pay the mortgage bill via the web, but it cost $11 to do so. Ugh.
“I wish I could find my bike computer and the mortgage bill,” I said every night for the rest of the week. “I sure wish I could find them.” I never named names, but I knew that Kris was responsible. I had checked everywhere for both items: my desk, my books, my pockets.
This morning I was preparing to go to the gym. Because it’s a glorious day, I decided to ride my bike into Milwaukie. “It sure would be nice to have my bike computer for this ride,” I said. “And where are my biking shorts, anyhow?”
“Your biking shorts are where they’re supposed to be. They’re where I put them. In your exercise drawer.” I checked the drawer. Sure enough, the biking shorts were there.
“Now all I need are the bike computer and the mortgage bill,” I said.
“Well, one out of three ain’t bad,” Kris said.
I sat down at the chair in my office to put on my socks. “Yes, I really wish I knew where the bike computer and the mortgage bill were,” I said. I wanted Kris to admit that she had misplaced them. Then, for no reason whatsoever, I opened my desk drawer.
“Huh,” I said. “What do you know?” There was my mortgage bill, exactly where I had put it. (But why had I put it there? That’s what I want to know.)
Kris looked at me and shook her head. “Two out of three ain’t bad,” she said.
“I guess I misplaced that,” I said, setting the bill on my desk. I idly began to clean up the gadgets in the far corner. “But I’m still missing my buh —”
I stopped.
There, underneath my Skype headset (which I had used last week to interview Tim Ferriss), was my bike computer. Just where I had left it.
“You know what I think is the best part of this story?” Kris asked. I didn’t really want to know, but she told me anyhow. “I wasn’t responsible for any of those.”
“I know,” I said, sighing. “But you’ll notice I never named you explicitly.”
“Oh, I know, but you were blaming me in your heart. I could tell.” She’s right. I was blaming her in my heart. I was certain she had misplaced the things that it turns out I had misplaced. But what have we learned over the years, dear readers? Kris Gates is always right. And that’s part of why I love her.
That’s a great story and such a sweet ending. Husbands should love their wives for being right most of the time! 😉
Ahhhh, good ole-fashioned light-hearted marital discord.
(I make fun, but it is a nice story, the kind I didn’t even know I was pining for.)
I wish my husband was wrong just once! Thats all I ask..just one time! But no, that mans a walking machine…his mother should have named him Data! It really does get tiring to be the only one wrong around here. Its a hard job.(sigh)
I like the old fashioned Foldedspace stories.
Your “contact” link is dead, so I’ll contact you here. I have a large collection of 78 recordings stashed in a secret basement that only I know about. What is the best way to digitize them into playable files, other than to record them analogally(?) from the Victrola console?
Among the recordings are King Oliver, Fiddlin’ Red Herron, Benny Moten, a set of the “Three Black Crows,” Pinetop Perkins, and the Boogie Woogie Trio (featuring Meade Lux Lewis, Albert Ammons and Pete Johnson).
Also got a coupla 1/4-inch thick one-sided slate Edison recordings.
I’m not looking to sell’em, only to preserve the sound. Gimme a holler.
Bunk