They say married people begin to look like each other after a while. Or is that people start to look like their dogs? In our case, both are true.
We make dog faces at each other — and recognize them immediately.
“Did you just huff at me like Indy?” This when we’re annoyed.
“Was that a Beau-double-stomp?” A playful challenge.
“Don’t give me that Beau look. I’m still a ‘no.'”
And every day, I become more like my husband. I think I’m okay with that.
I’ve been camera shopping, a long and stressful affair because this is me we’re talking about. I’m picky and do all the research, then can’t stomach the thought of spending the money on the thing I’ve just spent days deciding is The One. I surf the internet until I get overwhelmed, drive to camera shops to hold the thing in my hands, and then start the whole shebang all over again when I get home.
I cabbed over to parts-unknown in downtown Seattle to check out this camera. Voila! The guy pulls it out. Shows me the whiz-bang hinged LCD screen. I reach for it, spin it around, and realize Joey’s in my head.
“That looks like it’ll break,” I blurt. “And then what? Ruined.”
The guy stares, then laughs.
“It’s like sun roofs...“ I say. “We don’t like sun roofs. They leak.”
We’re officially a we, because once upon a time I did like sun roofs, but now I look at mine and imagine water dripping on my head. I kindly refuse the NIKON branded camera bag, thinking it’s like putting a “Steal Me” sign on my stuff. And you’d better not leave me alone with a pair of (really good, of course) hedge clippers; you will have accidentally naked trees in no time.
How about you? Are you finding the little voice in your head is sounding a lot like your spouse?