Joel has always claimed that I read too much into his facial expressions. He’s insisted that he really isn’t thinking about sexy actresses or plotting how to get out of chores.
When I ask, “Then what are you thinking about when you get that faraway look on your face?” he is at a loss for a response. I now have the definitive answer to the question, “What does my husband think about during moments of boredom or inactivity?”
Last week, I was sitting at the dining room table grading papers when I noticed a wistful look on my husband’s face. His eyes were misty, and his mouth held a mysterious smile. I stared at him for a moment, wondering what fond memory had placed him in such a deep state of reverie. Was he thinking of a high school sweetheart? Was he remembering a long ago first kiss? Or could he be imagining running away from it all? Was my hard-working, loyal husband dreaming of freedom from life’s daily grind in Palm Beach or perhaps Tahiti? As if in a trance, he got up from his chair and walked from the room.
Moments later, I heard a loud crash from the back room of the house. Alarmed, I jumped up and hurried to the laundry room to find Joel flat on his back. Seeing the doer of laundry, the fixer of fences, the washer of dishes, the maker of beds, the changer of lightbulbs, the scrubber of floors, the builder of decks, and the scratcher of backs stretched out in such an awkward pose made my heart race. Please don’t let him be injured, was my thought as, aloud, I asked, “Oh my gosh! Joel, are you alright?” Joel’s long legs were splayed out and laundry was scattered all over the room. A dirty sock hung limply from his knee, and the now empty basket propped up his elbow.
He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just stupid.”
“What happened?” I asked, as I gave him a hand up.
“I don’t even want to tell you. It’s really dumb. But, since I know you won’t let up until I do, I will explain -- if you promise not to write about it for Little Spouse on the Prairie,” was his oh so naïve reply. Lucky for listeners, I knew better than to make a promise not to air a good Joel story.
Joel had been listening to a college football game on the radio. The kicker for one of the teams had set a number of records and was an NFL prospect. Though Joel was quite a college athlete himself, he did not kick field goals, and listening to the radio announcers talk about this great young player got Joel waxing nostalgic.
The thought crossed his mind that one of his biggest regrets in life was that he hadn’t kicked field goals in college. In the back of his mind, he understood that he had missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Wealth, fame, and a fulfilling career had all been passed up simply because he hadn’t listened to his heart and become the kind of field goal kicker the radio announcers were now describing.
“I was imagining that I was a field goal kicker for an NFL team as I walked back to switch over the laundry. I envisioned myself running up to the ball, making contact, and following through. I guess I actually did kick with my right leg, and when my leg came down, my heel caught on the lip of the laundry basket. My left leg whipped out from under me, and down I went. I guess I wasn’t wearing the right shoes. Those field goal kickers are wearing high tech kicking shoes, and I’ve got these heavy work boots on.”
Based on this incident, I have concluded that my jealous worries about Joel are misplaced. He really isn’t imaging rendezvous with old flames or escaping to an exotic land. Instead of fretting about those concerns, I should actually be quite worried that my star field goal kicker will go down so hard that he will be benched for rest of the laundry season. Maybe I should get him a pair of high tech athletic shoes?
