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The Things We Do For Love

At 7 a.m every Sunday Morning and 7 p.m every Wednesday evening I am required to spend twenty minutes rolling a drumstick up and down the back of my husband's thighs. This is not some hideous perversion plucked from the pages of Fifty Shades (I don't read garbage) but apparently a bone fide prevention technique against hamstring injuries. These sessions are not exactly the highlight of my week. The stick rolling is actually a LOT more exhausting than one would imagine, but my complaints have fallen on stony ground as Mufasa claims it's the most exercise I've had all year (sadly this is true.)

I'm desperately trying to think of something I want in return for these weekly torture sessions because delivering them purely as an act of love is not working for me AT ALL. The little acts of love I prefer are the ones that require minimal effort like remembering to buy my husband's favorite salad dressing or collecting his shirts from the cleaners.

The other day I happened to be home after he had left for work as I had a late morning dental appointment. I was using the time to make important calls and had finally got past all the automated selections to a LIVE person when my cell phone started ringing and I saw my husband's number on the screen. I did not want to abandon the call I was on but became increasingly disturbed as he KEPT ringing and ringing and after four unsuccessful attempts to reach me on my cell started dialing the house phone which I ignored as I was still otherwise engaged. When he reverted to calling the cell AGAIN I panicked (deciding it must be a real emergency) and answered full of fear at the news I was no doubt about to receive:

Dishy " Hi Darling What's wrong?"

Mufasa " Thank Goodness you're still home"

Dishy " Why? What's happened?"

Mufasa "DISASTER!" 

Dishy (now very distressed) "What sort of disaster"

Mufasa " I just don't know how this happened but I'm wearing the wrong shoes."

Dishy " WHAT!!!!! The wrong shoes how? You mean you have one dress shoe and one sneaker on?" (thinking that maybe he has a brain tumor that's affecting his vision.)

Mufasa " No I'm wearing black trousers and I just noticed I put on brown shoes."

Dishy "................" ( speechless - I mean what does a loving wife say in these situations?)

Mufasa " Can you please bring my black shoes AS SOON AS POSSIBLE?"

Dishy " Of course darling, but I am actually on the way to the dentist do you think you can survive till I arrive at lunchtime?"

I hope that despite the sarcasm in my response , my husband will acknowledge the delivery of the shoes as another little demonstration of my affection. Maybe he will not be so crabby next time he notices I'm wearing his favorite socks to bed. Maybe he will finally get around to taking my car for an oil change. Maybe he will  remember to put the recycle bins out for collection this week without me having to nag.

After all in every relationship there is a never-ending list of The Things We do For Love.

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