Rules I Live By

I've been married a long, long time. Cupcake and I were just kids when we tied the noose. I mean knot. I was 21 and Cupcake was... somewhat older than me. I can`t tell you by how much as that information is only available under threat of death. In either case, it truly was a loooong while back. Our marriage, I mean, not Cupcake's birth date.

The year we wed was 1982; a past so distant, on TV were M*A*S*H episodes that weren't re-runs. We also enjoyed such fare as “The A Team”, “The Love Boat” and “T.J. Hooker”. Okay so maybe “enjoyed” is too strong a word for “The Love Boat”. This was the year NBC premiered their new show, “Late Night With David Letterman” which thrived on having Reagan as their presidential target.

Making records at the time were Jennifer Warnes teamed with freakishly spastic singer Joe Cocker singing “Up Where We Belong” and The Oral Thermometer's mega-hit, “Up Where It Don't Belong”.

The point I'm underlining is that Cupcake and I have been in a relationship for decades and in all that time of wedded bliss, you'd think by now we had enough rules. You'd think that every petty dispute possible will have been worked out to this point. You'd think I'd have finally wised up. You'd be so wrong.

You see, like the average hubby, I bumble along trying not to makes waves with the little woman. Life will be just dandy and all of a sudden... BAM! A new insta-rule. “You must not ignore your spouse when talking with the guys”. You didn`t even know what hit you.

Insta-rules come in three varieties. There are the ones you`ll be saddled with for the rest of your life, such as, “If you look at another woman like that again, I will kill you with my bare hands” rule. Then there are the shorter term rules that slowly fall by the wayside, such as the “No having the TV on during supper” rule which was amended twice... once to exempt my Hockey Night in Canada and once to exempt Cupcake`s “Survivor”. Then there was the “No teaching the boys to play poker” rule which wasn't repealed until the boys both reached adulthood. I should never have told her we were playing for their allowance money. Little did she know they were both up fifty bucks on me when the rule was made. Luckily they believed me when I said it was just for pretend, anyway.

Then there are the real short snappers; rules don`t last long at all, “Whoever is the last to shower has to dry the cabinet with their towel before tossing it in the laundry” rule. Yeah, right. That will happen.

“Hang your jacket up properly in the closet, not draped on the back of a chair.” I just wait for her to forget herself just once and then it's back to chair draping until next time the rule is re-introduced.

Another rule that has been created through clenched teeth was “If you make the bathroom rug wet by any means whatsoever and I get my socks damp as a result, you will be punished.” Apparently, I`m not too old for a “swirly”.

There is a certain evolution (Sorry, Brian!) to the rules that crop up, however. It will start out as something like “No eating crackers in bed”, which becomes “No eating crunchy or crumby food in bed” which is followed by “And no eating food in noisy packaging, either” and finally, “No eating in bed except for quiet food with no aroma whatsoever.” So far, all I`ve found that fits that bill is plain tofu or cheese curds in a bowl. One is gross and the other bungs me up worse than a plastic cork.

The rule we`ve had the longest tussel about, however, involves bed making. Cupcake thinks the rule should be, “Whoever is last out of bed must make it.” This is because she leaves for work three hours before I do (he said trying not to sound smug). She's also first up on weekends to finish her repose in the recliner in the livingroom so she can enjoy television even while she's asleep. This conveniently ensures I have to make the bed every day.

I followed the rule for a while but then rebelled and suggested the rule should be, “Whoever is first in bed and messes it up should have to make it.” Suspiciouly, Cupcake readily agreed to that one. Said we could try it. Then she chuckled menacingly. I was scared.You see, my rule didn't specify when the bed had to be made. That night, Cupcake was first in bed, as always and, at 4:45 AM, upon waking, began to follow the dictates of my poorly thought-out rule. She straightened her side of the bed as vigourously as she could, making sure to jostle the mattress so enthusiastically, it felt like a tiny, localized earthquake had hit our bed that was at least 12 on the Richter scale.

After a couple mornings of waking to shaking, I suggested a compromise rule. I would make the bed on weekdays before she got home, while she did it on weekends after I was up. Unfortunately, her people have yet to get back to my people. The bed remained unmade over the weekend. Life as we know it, somehow, continued...