My Budding Curmudgeon

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/sail/”>Sail</a&gt;

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Sailing (not us though) on Martha’s Vineyard.

Curmudgeon: 1. archaic: miser. 2. a crusty, ill-tempered and usually old man. -Merriam-Webster

My husband is the type of guy who takes out a desk calendar every Sunday and asks everyone what they’ve got going on for the week.

He’s a bit of a control freak. Maybe it’s from being a lawyer for nearly 30 years and having to keep track of billable hours. He’s so used to being accountable for his time that he has a hard time relaxing on vacation. The longer the stretch of open time laying before him, the more unmoored he gets.

We’ve been on vacation for less than 48 hours and he’s thrown out some stuff I’ve never heard in 33 years of marriage. Here’s a sampling:

“Why can’t cats be house trained?”

“We have only four hotdogs! What are we going to do?”

“I just went to the store and there are no hotdogs anywhere!”

“I just spent $125 at the store and we’ve got nothing to eat.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to bring the Bisquick.”

“Are you crazy buying corn on the cob up here? OK, you can buy four ears.” (I buy six for 4 people.)

“I can’t believe I left all my vitamins at home.”

“I don’t have a book to read. I don’t want to use your Kindle. I’m going to treat myself and go to the bookstore.”

“I forgot to buy the Vineyard Gazette. I have no idea about the tides.”

“I can’t see (an eye infection) and I can’t walk (achilles tendonitis).

“My legs are dead.”

“Why would I want to go swimming at the YMCA in the summer?”

“There’s a new golf course in Chappaquiddick.” Me: “Hey, let’s go!” Him: “We have no clubs, no bags, no game and no money.”

“I need a new dump sticker, but I left my tax form at home. How am I going to prove ownership?”

“I’d take out the recyclables, but we don’t have a recycling bin.”

“I can’t believe I just spent $15 for a small bag of cherries and $8 for a small can of cashews.”

“The chip aisle was stripped, but I managed to find a bag.”

“Maybe we should have tried the Scottish Bake House before spending $25 for a pie.”

“Do you realize that ginger ale you bought was $6?”

Me: “Hey, let’s go sailing.” Him: “In what? Do you want me to spend $50,000 to rent the Shenandoah?”

Son: “Happy 4th Dad!” Him, swirling his pointer “Whoopdeedoo!”

Son: “Let’s go get some beach chairs.” Him: “I’m not paying $80 for beach chairs.”

“I bought cold cuts for a G Sandwich, but we need bread. Let’s get some at the store.” After going in three stores, “There’s no bread anywhere. Let’s get out of here.”

“There’s a Beverly Hills Cop special on Encore tonight. Let’s watch it.” Son: “We don’t get Encore.” Him: “We get it at home, why don’t we get it here? Do we get HBO?”

“We have to be at the picnic at 6 o’clock. How are we going to manage the beach today?”

After eating lunch, watching tennis and a brief nap: “Are we going to the beach today or not?”

On the way home from the beach: “I hate to tell you this, but there’s not much for dinner.”

I tell him I am going to write a piece and call him a curmudgeon. “Your father was a curmudgeon,” he replies. “I’d appreciate if you call me a budding curmudgeon.”

 

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “My Budding Curmudgeon

  1. This is a masterpiece. I would send it to anyone in need of a good laugh. My wife and I were in tears we were laughing so hard. Really, you could be a sitcom family.

    Like

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