This may seem silly or kind of ridiculous but yesterday evening I got a perfect reminder of why I love Ira so very much.
When I got home from work I was already a bit tired and hungry. Lots of different stresses on my mind. The kitchen was a mess and I knew I needed to go to Walmart and pick up a sleeping bag. I have an overnight gig with my band this weekend out in the middle of a town called "Concrete" and I just want to make sure I have a comfortable place to sleep without having to rely on someone else. We've got a lot of new equipment we'll be using and Ira won't be able to come to this gig. We had a rehearsal on Monday and there's another one Thursday. We're out of coffee and bread but there's no time for shopping. Maybe on Friday. I get paid on Friday.
Ira helped me out with the dishes even though his knee has been hurting him terribly. I decided to pull out the tent from our closet and see what kind of shape it was in since we haven't opened it in a few years. I went to the closet and pulled it out, along with a little canvas camp stool and could smell that the cat had pissed all over it. Paul is the culprit as Moses has never gone outside of the box. Now I'm upset and I put the stool in the tub and sprayed this "Urine Destroyer" enzyme over it and hot water to let it soak. I started pulling contents out of the tent bag, sniffing each one in turn. Yep. Pee.
I started chucking the whole mess into the tub and using the hand sprayer to hose it all down. I forgot how big this 4 person tent was. I will just have to let it soak for a bit. When I first opened the tent in the living room, 2 year old dried flowers scattered all over the place so I went back and began to vacuum all of that stuff up. I'm getting more and more frustrated and when I'm hungry and frustrated I just get really pissy. I started yelling at the cats, cursing them under my breath and whining about the camping gear being so nasty and ruining my weekend. Good thing I checked now. Stupid pissing cats. I stepped in a puddle in my socks. I'm going to kill them all.
Ira was in the office on the computer electronically sending his mom some money for physical therapy. He's such a helpful son. My blouse is damp, my hair is a mess and I'm getting more and more hungry and antsy. Ira and I discuss dinner. I'm beyond wanting to cook anything at this point. He needs to go to Walmart too to pick up some more nicotine patches since he's trying again to quit smoking. He suggests the Chinese place and I tell him I've had salmon and cold noodle salad from Uwajimaya for lunch and I'm not in the mood for Asian again. Indian sounds kind of good but there aren't any convenient in our neighborhood. He suggests our favorite Mexican place and I just kind of shrug. I do like their veggie fajitas.
The evening before we had talked about how when a man asks his woman "Where do you want to eat?" and she says "I don't know" or "I don't care" and then proceeds to shoot down all of his ideas. He said he was grateful I didn't do that since all of his previous relationships had that problem and I said "well, I just know what I want!" I tried pondering why a woman would do that and what the purpose would be. We discussed it and Ira said to him it seemed like a test. For the man to know her so well that he could read her mind and figure it out. I said maybe sometimes it's just hard to decide and you'd rather let someone else do it for once. We just laughed about it because it didn't really matter to us. People can be so funny some times.
Well here we are now. Me in an awful mood and needing some food and I just don't know what I want. I go put my shoes on and stand in the office doorway looking at Ira. He asks "Yes, bebe?" and I just stick out my lower lip, furrow my brow and say "Make me not grumpy anymore." He nods slightly, still looking at the screen and says "OK. Put your shoes on."
"My shoes are on." I pout. He stands up and walks towards me. "My shirt is damp and smells like cat pee." I mutter.
"Go change your shirt." he says in an uncharacteristically firm but gentle voice. I trudge off to the closet and peel off my stinky blouse, put a black tee shirt on and throw my green sweater on over it. I go back to the front door to get my purse. He tells me to grab my purple sweater in case it gets chilly outside. I tell him softly that I'm already wearing a sweater. He grabs the keys off of the hook and takes me by the hand to lead me out and to the car. He walks me out the passenger side of my car and opens the door for me. I slide in and make sure my long skirt is pulled in all of the way and he closes the door. I don't say a word or ask where we are going. He's in charge now.
As we pull out I'm surprised that he turns left instead of right towards our favorite Mexican place. He's decided on something else then. Burgers? I hope it's not burgers since that's what we had the night before but at this point I really don't care. Food of any kind is fine. He pulls into the Taco Time just a few blocks from our house. OK. I can do Taco Time.
We get out of the car and he takes me by the hand. I can't think what I want. I'm just hungry. I'm sweaty. I'm frustrated and even though I washed my hands I swear I still smell cat pee. We stand gaping in front of the front counter, a young kid watching us patiently from behind the register. I study the menu fiercely but can't puzzle out what exactly looks good. Ira pulls me forward. I don't know what I want yet!! A pinto bean burrito sounds right. I usually get the pinto salad but I had salad for lunch. Yes. A burrito. And maybe a taco? Chicken or fish? Crunchy or soft? Corn or flour? Does it have sour cream, cuz I like sour cream but the calories... and I just don't know. My eyes glaze over. I'm staring slack jawed up at the menu board when I hear Ira start to order. "Chicken enchilada platter, pinto bean burrito and a chicken baja taco." The kid looks at me. I stutter "uh, yes. I'll have ummm.. a pinto burrito... what's in the baja taco? ummm..." and Ira interrupts me "Honey, I ordered for you."
"Oh. You did?" I'm confused but pleasantly surprised. I don't have to think now!
"Yes. And two small drinks please." He smiles at the kid and hands him his debit card. Tears start to prick my eyes. I blink rapidly as the cashier hands me my cup with a smile. I shuffle over to the drink dispenser machine. This thing is cool. It's got a dozen different sodas in it and each one you can customize with a few different syrups but I know what I want. They have Cherry Vanilla Diet Dr. Pepper and I am so happy. I fill up my drink and turn to look at Ira. He sees I'm about to start crying and points to a nearby table. "Go sit over there." he tells me. I nod and obey without even getting a lid or a straw for my cup. I'm ready to do whatever he says at this point without hesitation.
As I sit down the tears start to spill out of my eyes. Ira sits down across from me. "I'm so happy!!" I sputter. He giggles at me and ducks his head in that cute way he does. "You knew exactly what I wanted before I did!" I bawled. I look ridiculous. Ira sees I don't have a straw or lid and jumps up to get me what I need. As he sits back down I have tears running down to my chin now. I'm still babbling something about knowing me so well and how I wanted a burrito but maybe a taco but I wasn't sure what kind but maybe not and now I need a tissue. He jumps up again to grab me a couple of napkins. He's back in sweet soft Ira mode instead of Mr. Command and in Charge mode and says "I know how much you love pinto beans and you didn't want a salad or Chinese food. You take such good care of me all of the time so now it's my turn and I can do that for you." I start dabbing at my face but really once I get into that state, the crying doesn't usually fully stop until I've had a few bites of food. A server came out and brought our tray to our table (I seriously love Taco Time) and the burrito was delicious. I could feel my mood change and brighten almost immediately. What a sweetheart. I felt fully loved and taken care of. We've been together getting close to 9 years now and it feels so good that I can trust him enough to make decisions for me when I just can't make them myself.
Maybe that's why sometimes when you ask a woman where she wants to eat and she says "I don't care". She's saying "I've had it up to here with decisions and dealing with crap today. Please, I trust you. Just make up my mind for me before I kill someone. I want someone else to take charge for once and just let me go along for the ride. I'm sure you'll make a good choice, I just want the hungry and the bitchiness to go away."