I am an independent person.
I fiercely defend my independent nature and I get incredibly bristly when someone attempts to make me dependent. (Yes, I realize that I’m married to a man who makes a lot more money than me. I made the decision to marry and work part-time.)
Case in point: the other evening, upon exiting a restaurant after dinner with my in-laws, my husband was told to “take care of [me]”.
I think I do a fine job of it, thank you very much.
Bristles up.
Ready. Aim. BREATHE FIRE!
Do people think I’m incapable of taking care of myself? If I were an actual fire-breathing dragon, the smoke would have been rolling out of my nostrils. What did they mean, “Take care of her”? I took a deep breath and… DH stepped in with a response:
“Oh, she pretty much takes care of herself. I just take her for the occasional walk and give her water.”
The fire I felt making its way to the surface receded back into the dark bowels of my gullet. Mentally I gave a snort, envisioning the last wisps of smoke slithering up to the clouds. I smiled, gave a short laugh, thanked the powers that be for DH’s quick wit and recovery of the moment and my wherewithal to “just shut up”.
We got into the car and DH commented, “I don’t know why they tell me to take care of you all the time.”
I glanced over, the corners of his mouth curved up in a grin and he started, “Because we both know…”, and I picked up the finish, “Whateva! I do what I want!”
Yeah! What Cartman says!
Images Courtesy of:
Musings of the Amusing Muse 