I read an absolutely fantastic line in Monica McClallan’s book, Cuffing. Here it is (and I am sincerely hoping Ms. McClallan takes this as a compliment that I would love this passage so much to share in my blog!) “Being single is all fun and games until there’s no one to kill the spiders.” “Maybe that’s the truth of what we all want: someone to kill the spiders.” This got me thinking about a recent fire drill we experienced as we had to get papers signed to sell my father’s house.

Here’s the story and the reason I thank the heavens for my wife’s skillset with strangers…While in Mexico, I got a call from my sister and brother-in-law. They needed my signature on papers, and it needed to be notarized with two witnesses and arrive in Florida no later than Friday. We live in Washington state. It was Tuesday night, and we were due to leave Mexico on Wednesday. We would be traveling all day on Wednesday and did not get home until early Thursday morning (just past 12:30a). The escrow woman emailed the documents, and I was up until nearly 2:00a getting my printer to work because the nozzle needed cleaning several times. My wife and I got up early Thursday morning to head to our bank, thinking we could ask the other bank employees to be our witness (Jody could not be one of the witnesses because she is an interested party as my wife). When we arrived at the bank, getting a notary was no problem…the witnesses…big problem. None of the bank employees could witness, nor could the notary (apparently, it is legal in Florida, but not Washington). I had already begged my wife to come into the bank with me because she is the one who goes there all the time and actually interacts with people. I was hoping she would be the one to ask about the bank employees being my witnesses. At this point, I am panicking. There is no way in f$%king hell I have the ability to request two strangers to be witnesses. I probably border or social anxiety disorder, if not definitely have it. In the short time, we were in Mexico, my wife struck up a friendship with three different couples. I, on the other hand, struggle to meet the neighbors. My wife struts out into the cold and comes back with two witnesses. She did her magic. My Shero. Coincidentally, she is the one who kills the spiders or finds them a new home.

We all have different skillsets. My wife can chat with anyone. Me, not so much. I do okay after she’s made friends or after I’ve conversed with someone via social media, but I will never be the one to make the first move. The solitary tasks, like doing our taxes, ordering items from Amazon, I’m your gal. Reaching out to others. Nope. Sending my steak back because it wasn’t cooked right, even if I ate steak…nope…never going to happen. A waiter could set a plate of poo in front of me, and after asking how my meal was, I’d say, “fine.” The point of this blog, if there is one, is that opposites can work. In fact, we complement one another. Even if there is conflict resulting from being so different, embracing and celebrating those differences is what it is about in a relationship.

I believe I tend to write about opposites, probably because that is what I know. I also think that is why ice queen meets soft and tender is so popular. We like to read about couples complimenting one another. If you want to read about my couples who complement one another, you know the drill; just click the links below.

This has got me thinking that I don’t believe I’ve read a scene in a book that prominently features a bidet, so if I get the writing bug again…I will most certainly include one. The possibilities are endless. In the meantime, if you want to check out all the interesting little scenes I try to add to my books, you know the drill. Just click one of the links below.

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