Ah, Labor Day weekend. While most of you were firing up the grill, cracking open a few cold ones and hanging with the fam, I was busy getting pooped on by a pigeon and watching at least a million episodes of 48 Hours Mystery on the computer.
Don’t worry, these events didn’t occur at the same time. The fly-by pooping happened when we took a break from the laptop to find sustenance outside the apartment. Serves me right for laboring to get my a$$ off the couch, right!?
I don’t know why Husband and I have such an infatuation with 48 Hours Mystery. But back home we spent many a Friday night hunkered down with a Vacce pizza, enraptured by America’s weirdest capers, most of which go something like this: Perfect husband/wife found stabbed/strangled/shot/thrown overboard. But they were such a happy couple!/totally had whacked out secret lives going on/managed a swingers ring in their perfect town. Jealousy ensued/the life insurance policy was ready to be cashed, so husband/wife conveniently disposed of his/her spouse, making it look like an accident/disappearance/serial killer massacre. Small town detective/district attorney knows what’s up though, and sets out to see justice served.
It’s enough to make you wonder why people are so afraid to just get a dang divorce. Wouldn’t that be a hell of a lot easier than bludgeoning your spouse and then making it look like the cable man did it? But apparently to many married/cheating/unhappy/nutso spouses, the answer to that question is no.
It boggles the mind. So much so that Husband looked at me about mid-way through our 10th episode and genuinely asked, “Um, can you promise not to kill me if you want out of this marriage?”
I thought about it a minute.
“Ok, I won’t kill you. But if you cheat on me I will maim you.”
He considered the deal. “That seems fair.”
“Let’s also promise to never go on a cruise. Those things are floating death traps!”
“Oh totally. No cruises. Too easy for one of us to get ‘accidentally’ thrown over.”
“And if a serial killer does break in and strangle me while you happen to be out on business, you have to cooperate with the police. Otherwise you look like a suspect.”
Satisfied, we snuggled up and finished watching the show. And if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.
* * *
This one’s for you, Harold Dow!