Mar. 17: Let’s make a deal

The deals I make with Vic are noticeably one-sided. They usually go something like this:

Jen: Here’s the deal. You make dinner and I’ll stop whining.

or…

Jen: Here’s the deal. If you’ll stop at the liquor store on the way home from work and get all the stuff to make yummy girly drinks and then make them, I’ll let you have some too.

Vic never wins in my deals. It’s gotten to where he’ll hear me say, “Here’s the deal” and immediately start shaking his head no. But you know what? Sometimes—sometimes—he still falls for it.

Like tonight. I was in a hurry to get to a PTO meeting at the school and I asked him to iron my shirt. He looked at me like I was kidding, like HOW DARE I pull him away from a very special episode of The Simpsons to do such a thing. And I looked right back at him like, that’s what the pause button on the TiVo remote is for, brainiac. I mean Honey. He didn’t jump up to get to my task immediately, so I sweetened the deal. Sometimes we wives have to do that. With my most genuine-ish smile, I added on those very popular words: I’ll make it worth your while.

OK, y’all, you know my mom reads this blog so you should know this is not going anywhere you might think because HELLO! My mom reads this blog! But Vic is maybe not as bright as you are, because he smiled real big and dreamily, and skipped over to the laundry room to iron. Yes. He skipped. I saw.

In the mean time, I finished getting the rest of myself ready and my shirt was hanging in the doorway ready for me to put on when I was done. Is he a sweetheart, or is he a sweetheart? I think he’s a sweetheart. I headed out to my meeting.

(It doesn’t have anything to do with this story, but in the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit that I went to this meeting having forgotten to put on a bra. No, I don’t know how it happened, Sheila. Somehow in the mixed up order of things I put on a tank top while I was getting ready and forgot to change before I got dressed. I’d prefer we don’t concentrate on it, OK? Suffice it to say I kept my arms crossed the whole meeting long.)

When I got back home Vic was just leaving to get the dogs from the groomer. I sat down at my computer and updated my Facebook status to reflect the embarrassment of the bra-less non-wonder that I am. I walked into the kitchen and saw the pizza had been left out from dinner, so I wrapped it up and put it away. Then I put a few other things away, and before you know it, I was cleaning the freaking kitchen! Oh ja, I can hardly believe it also. I even swept the floor! I hate doing that stuff!

Victor came home just as I was finishing up. He looked a little surprised when he walked into the kitchen, so I put my arms around him and said, “See, honey? I told you if you ironed my shirt I’d make it worth your while, and I’m cleaning the kitchen!”

He looked at me and seemed a little disappointed. But after all that hard work I’m too tired to find out for sure. And who’s the chump who agreed to my deal in the first place? DO NOT feel sorry for the man. He ought to know by now that JEN ALWAYS WINS.

Edited to add: I mean it! Don’t y’all be thinking “Oh, poor Vic!” He knew the special brand of insanity he was marrying into long before he said “I do.” Just ask him; his e-mail address is… um… jennifer-at-manullang-dot-com.