Had a tiff with the wife this morning. Some background: When my wife tells me she wants to do some mundane task in a particular way, 99 times out of 100 I’ll give her a thumbs up. She’s a very smart, capable woman and if the strategy doesn’t work there would be minimal downside, the problem easily fixed. Don’t sweat the small stuff, you all get it. When I’m the one making the suggestion, it’s like pulling teeth. “That’s fine,” is rarely heard from her, maybe twice a year. She knows I’m a very literal person and if I wasn’t sure about something I’d start by saying “I may be mistaken here but…” I don’t BS, she knows that. Anyway, a nephew and his wife are visiting Bangkok and we’ve been and they’re asking for suggestions. Me: “Tell them to visit the National Museum and the Jim Thompson House and to plan for a long trip from and to the airport.” “Are you sure the airport is a long way from town?” She thinks out loud. “Yeah, I’m sure.” “Well there’s no need to get all huffy about it, I was just thinking.” You get the picture. I’m off to the gym and I’m lifting and stewing about the 9,324,881st version of the same GD argument when my OSU buddy (I’ve mentioned him three or five times) comes up. “How are you, Tom?” He shrugs and I can tell that he’s grieving his wife, not long passed. He carries his grief around with him every minute of every day and it struck me that I needed to get over myself.
Thanks for indulging me.
Thanks for indulging me.



