I Confess – Part II

If you confess in the woods and no one hears it, did it make a sound? Or did it start a game with no end?
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In my last blog post, I came clean about having (once again) lost my driver’s license. It’s something I’ve done with embarrassing regularity. This last time was during a long walk on the beach. The walk got much longer once I decided to retrace my 5-miles worth of steps in an attempt to fine said license. So not proud. 

Upside: I got a hell of a workout and a deep dark tan. Downside: Having to break the news to Mr. Parker. I love my guy, but he now has zero patience for such folderol. (Pardon my French.)

To take away some of the sting, I confessed via my last blog post…As one does. I thought that if I offset my offence by surrounding it with witty banter, it might help cushion the blow. Mr. Parker usually proofreads my blog posts, but this time I didn’t run it past him. Instead, I squoze the event, including my covert trip to the DMV, good and hard for all of the juicy, sticky wit it contained. I then proofed the blog myself and hit, “POST.” 

Guess what happened. Nothing! Did he even see it, you ask? Yep. I checked. He’d clicked LIKE on the FB post linking to the blog. But that doesn’t mean he read it. Two weeks later, I gave him my newsletter to proofread. If you get my newsletter (and if you don’t, you can correct that right now--I’ll wait), you will know that there’s always a link to that moth’s blog post along with the first few lines of copy. He proofed the newsletter without a saying a word about my confession.  

Who’s zoomin’ who? Did he never read my sandy tale of stupidity? Or, or, or--did he read it and choose to say nothing? Why would he do that, you ask? To win the game, of course. Is he waiting to see if I’ll be the first one to break? I can confront him, I lose the game of “Who Can Outwait Whom?” that I myself initiated. 

Who thinks that way? Who’s so petty that they need to earn points by turning any ridiculous or mundane life happenstance into a game that their partner may or may not be playing with them? This girl! And quite possibly, that guy. (There’s a reason we’re together.)

How long will a game that may or may not be being played go on? It’s conceivable that we will each take this one to our graves. Oh, yes. The day I die, it is quite possible that my last thought will be, “I wonder if Blaine ever read that driver’s license blog post.” Now that’s a fun game.