I’m sure you are thinking I’ve completed lost my marbles. “Where in the world could that title possibly be leading?” Well, hold on to your hats people. It involves a story with Camouflage Man. He’s actually the main character in this story. I will play the ugly villain.
It starts out on a peaceful Friday afternoon. Last Friday to be exact. I was cuddled up in my new office at home basking in the glory of one of my new video creations, dreaming of the endless possibilities for this masterpiece and preparing my speech for the Golden Globes … when I heard it.
The sound billowed into my carefree zone like a bunch of preschoolers who had just encountered Chucky Cheese for the first time. I was instantly annoyed, but I decided to brush it off and continue working. Until there it was again … and again .. and again.
The sound of a nursing home full of old grumpy men, the sound of smokers cutting away at their lungs. The sound of my husband …. “hacking.”
Now, I’m not exactly sure that “hacking” is the right word for the awful sound he continued to make from the kitchen, but just imagine a deep cough-annoying clearing of the throat-grunt-throw up sort of sound … and you begin to hear the noise that was echoing through my blissful retreat.
As I tried to continue to gather my thoughts and wrap my head around the creativity I had at my fingertips just a few short moments before, I began to get increasingly annoyed at the “hacking” noise that had become routine in the kitchen. So .. then it happened, I lost it! Yes, girls I will admit it, my estrogen took control, my patience went out the window and I yelled, “Joe, Shut up!”
I wish I could say it ended there, but the “hacking” kept coming to which I replied with, “Shut up!,” “Joe, be quiet!” “Oh My Gosh, shut up!” “Please, shut up!” “Joseph Anthony, I am about to come in there and give you something to “hack” about!” and finally “Holy crap, what is your problem?”
During this whole tirade, the thought to actually go CHECK on my “hacking” husband never quite occured to me. Until finally, I was so upset and annoyed I slammed my notepad down and went marching into the kitchen. (cue “don, don, don” scary music)
When I arrived in the kitchen in all my fury, I found Joe on his knees, face red as a ripe tomato, tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes bloodshot and yes, he was still “hacking.” You would have thought I would have immediately rushed to his side and leaped into CPR, but no my first reaction was … “What are you doing on the floor?”
He gasped for a huge breath of air and replied, “I swallowed a piece of toilet paper, and it’s flapping around in my lungs ..” (yes, this is a true story)
Oh course, my obvious reply was, “Joe … how did you swallow a piece of toilet paper?”
To make a long story .. well it’s already long, but I’ll make it shorter … Over the next few minutes (between the “hacking” and gasping for air), Camouflage Man went on to tell me he had been blowing his nose and at some point took in a deep breath in preparation for another blow and jerked a piece of the toilet paper into his mouth and down his windpipe. Now, I want you all to know my conscious did eventually kick in, and I rushed to his side and played the sympathetic wife, poured him a glass of water, asked if I should drive him to the emergency room, etc.
But ladies, listen to how this story ends. After taking care of him and helping him get the toilet paper pushed down far enough that it wasn’t giving him any more trouble, he takes a deep breath looks at me and says, “You know if you would just keep the Kleenex out where I could find it instead of putting it away in a cabinet, this wouldn’t have happened.”
And there you have it … typical man.
It’s always somehow the “woman’s” fault. Yes, Camouflage Man, I have been conspiring against you and locking the Kleenex up in a hidden closet so you can never find it and are forced to resort to toilet paper which we’ve now all learned is apparently life-threatening when it comes to blowing your nose.
A few last words. When sharing this story (which is much more entertaining in person as you get to hear the actual “hacking” noise) with my coworkers I received a few responses I thought were blog-worthy.
First, “One of my husband’s friends was telling a story one time about a couple where the wife was having to care for the husband due to a sickness .. and my husband replied with ‘Gosh, I’d be dead if I had to rely on my wife.”
I mean really men as if you could function without us!
Lastly, “One time my husband told me if I ever became unable to function with daily life, not to worry he would take care of me … but he would definitely remarry.”
Okay, seriously .. are we supposed to reply to these kinds of comments with, “Thanks honey, that’s so sweet of you.”?
All joking aside, I sure do love my Camouflage Man! He keeps me entertained.
It’s a Walderful Life!