The Shoe Story
I had been married for about ten years when, one night after a very hectic night on the evening shift (3-11), I came home in a bad mood. The patients just seemed to be more wound up than usual. Was it a full moon? Lunar activity really does affect elderly patients. Ask any nurse who’s worked in a nursing facility past a full moon.
I did the usual thing and kicked off my shoes when I came in the door. I always kept my shoes at my desk so I could keep up with where I put them.
My husband, witnessing my typical act, asks the same as he did every night, “Can you please take your shoes to the bedroom tonight?”
Typically, I answer, “Yeah. I’ll take them when I go to bed.” Of course, they never make it to the bedroom. They are permanently parked at my desk.
That night, I answered differently and said, “No! I have been lying to you for ten years. I’ve been telling you every night I’ll take them to the bedroom and every night I leave my shoes right here. I’m tired of lying to you! My shoes are going to stay right here so quit asking me to take them to the bedroom. The answer is no!”
I was surprised no fight ensued - relieved actually because, I was just so tired and as I said, in a foul mood.
About a month later, I came in from work tired, stressed, feeling overworked, underpaid, and under-appreciated, needless to say, another bad mood. Was it also another full moon?
I must have had three patients fall, several skin tears, patients refusing their meds and no time for lunch. I was exhausted. I just wanted to come in, grab a glass of milk and go lay down. My three year old son, who usually waited up for me every night so we could put his ABC train set together, let the train run one time around the track and then put it away, fortunately, was in bed this night.
I kicked my shoes off at my desk and went into the kitchen. I reached for a cup out of the cabinet and they were all gone. I looked in the sink and the drain; very few were there.
“Where are all the cups?” I asked yelling from the kitchen.
“In the kitchen,” came the answer.
“Smartass,” I said, thinking I had mumbled.
“What was that?” My husband asked from the living room.
Why is it when I am sitting right next to him and ask him if he’ll mow the lawn over the weekend, he canmot hear a word I’m saying because “he’s so engrossed in the TV.” Yet, I can be in the next room, hell, outside in the backyard, and say something and he has heard every word I said?
I grumbled and opened the refrigerator to find at least a half-dozen cups in there. My husband was/is in the habit of putting his used cup in the refrigerator with the intention of using it again later instead of dirtying up another one.
I sighed heavily as I began to pull all the dirty cups out of the fridge and toss them into the sink. Then with more attitude than I meant to have, I called out, “Do you think you could put your cups in the sink after you’ve used them so other family members in the house might have something to drink with?”
Without missing a beat, my husband answered, “I’ve been lying to you for ten years …”