Ask not for whom the bell tolls
"I'm not getting it," my wife said.
It rang again. I didn't want to get it either. Anyone could be on the other end. A telemarketer swearing our lives would be better with an air purification system that made our house smell like ozone, or prednisone, or calzone, or whatever. Or we'd be lost without a time-share condo, more insurance, or a new religion based on the teachings of Screech from "Saved by the Bell."
Or, worst of all, the person on the phone could be someone in our family.
When you marry someone, you're not just marrying them. You're marrying mom, dad, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and the weird cousin who never shuts the bathroom door. And they like to call - a lot.
"It's probably your mother," she said.
Probably. Mom likes to check up on her kids. After three years, my wife's still not used to it.
"Why don't you want to talk with my mom?" I asked, getting ready to defend the woman who raised me and still gives us food every time we visit.
"I already have today," she said. "Twice."
Yeah, Mom calls at least three times a day for no reason other than to say hi, tell us who's sick, that she wouldn't have done something the way my wife did and we don't take good enough care of the baby.
Maybe my wife would be more patient if my mom lived farther than a three and a half-minute car ride from our house. Yep, it's three and a half minutes. I timed it. The drive's exactly as long as Darth Vader's "Imperial March."
Um, I didn't pick that song for any reason, OK?
Ring.
"She just calls because she cares," I said. "I don't act that way when your mom calls."
It's only after I say something and experience about five seconds of dead air that I realize I did something dumb. Husband Rule No. 127: Never bring up your wife's family during the prelude to an argument. Never. Never ever. I think that's what started World War I.
"Why don't you like my family?" she asked.
See? Husband Rule No. 127 is never wrong.
"Honey," I said, trying to make up for whatever I did. "I love your family."
"Then how come you never talk to them?"
When my in-laws call long distance from Texas, my first instinct is not to believe they called to talk to me when their only daughter, interestingly enough, has the same telephone number as me.
Ring.
"Because..." I started, then picked up the phone. It was my in-laws. I talked to them for about 15 minutes whether they wanted me to or not, then I hung up.
"Who was it?" My wife asked.
"Your parents," I said.
"What did they want?"
"To talk to you."
I think there's another Husband Rule lesson in there somewhere, but I'm not allowed to think for myself anymore.
