Magic Beans as an Investment Strategy, Coyote Alarms & Clown Shoes

Welcome to my latest publication of Domestic Chaos Theory…

Magic Beans as an Investment Strategy. Our boys have moved out. We stay connected via text. Their responses aren’t all that rewarding. Yup. Nah. Sweet. (I’m actually starting to feel cheated by all that money we invested in Baby Einstein.) Perhaps I shouldn’t complain. Because the multi-word texts I receive from them are almost never good. (How much collision insurance do we have? Where do we keep the fire extinguisher? I bought some magic beans and now the guy at the bank is telling me they’re worthless.)

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Coyote Alarms. You know how the best part of a birthday is waiting to open the last present, the one that your spouse picked out to make this particular birthday a unique and special event? Yeah, neither do I. That tradition got killed the year that my wife talked about Phantom of the Opera all year and ended up buying tickets for me for my birthday. Anyway, she still holds out the hope that the last present will be the best. Last year I did not disappoint. You guessed it. I got her a coyote alarm. (The many local coyotes are somehow inspired to crap prodigiously on our property.) Actually, there’s no such thing as a coyote alarm per se, contrary to what the roadrunner cartoons would have you believe. But I improvised by buying one of those cheap motion detection alarms. What woman wouldn’t be jealous of my wife? Unfortunately, this alarm was not a complete success. We didn’t catch a single coyote in the act. We did, however, scare the bejesus out of our gardener.

Clown Shoes. I wear big shoes. 14W. People ask how I find them. Especially since I refuse to pay more than $50 for a pair. It’s simple. I wait for normal people to buy the good stuff. Then I buy what’s left. My wife does not care for this strategy. For instance, she thinks these shoes are hideous. I disagree. Just the other day some dude yelled out to me, “nice clown shoes”. So, who looks stupid now? (Hold on. My wife is suggesting that this may not have been a compliment.)

MY WIFE’S POV

This is pretty obvious. Because clearly buying me tickets to Phantom of the Opera was totally fine. I enjoyed myself, didn’t I? (But don’t you dare reciprocate by buying me tickets to WWF.)

BTW, the coyote alarm was a real gift. Obviously, it wasn’t the last gift. Or I’d be dead now. But I really did wrap it. And I really did give it to her.

The shoes thing was real as well. I really do buy the leftovers. The part that wasn’t real was the compliment about the clown shoes. (I wish.)

I really do wear a size 14 shoe. One time way back when we were dating, we found ourselves in a Timberland store. (I know that sounds like a lousy date but I’m pretty sure it was just a small part of the entire evening’s entertainment.) Anyway, there was this big Timberland boot sitting on top of a display. My future wife yelled at me to come take a look at this grotesquely large shoe. Obviously Timberland had commissioned someone to make this obscenely large shoe, simply for the purpose shocking people at the display. I turned it over. And then let her know that this show was actually my size. Now, she thinks that story is hilarious.

FINAL THOUGHTS

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