Early morning repartee at our house

Lindy some years ago,
during a walk around the coulee.

(One morning, soon after our darlin’ dog Lindy died, when neither my husband nor I happened to be in fine form.)

He had been up for oh, probably a couple of hours, but I had just managed to struggle out of bed, get myself a cup of coffee, and go in search of him.

My computer was acting up, you see, and I couldn’t get online, so I was looking woebegone.
No dog+no internet=no nothing, in my opinion. Instead of hitting the computer with a stick, I went to face him in his lair: his home office furnished with two computers.

Surprisingly, after only a few moans, groans, and grumbles from me, he said I could use one of them to go online.

That perked me up a bit, until he refused to log himself out of Facebook.

“You have to log out,” said I, “or else I won’t be able to log in.”

After a few attempts to prove himself right, he had to concede. Okay, he would allow himself to be forced to log out, but he wouldn’t enjoy it.

I went back to the dining room.
No sooner had I started my second coffee, than along came Himself, to begin (without a word) rifling around in the pile of stuff’n’junk on my side of the table.

“What are you doing?” asked I.

“Looking for my clipboard,” replied he.

“Huh?” asked I.

“My little clipboard. You borrowed it,” said he.

“I did?”

 "Did I?” I repeated, always quick with early-morning repartee.

“Yes, you borrowed for your trip to Scotland last fall.”

“Oh...” (more brilliant repartee) “...that thing. I hate that thing, but you insisted I take it because you said it would make my trip easier.

“And it didn’t help, you know. It drove me crazy, sticking up out of my purse, or else lost in the bottom of my shoulder bag.
“I didn’t want to take it, you know. I did say I hate that thing, didn’t I?
“Besides, it can’t be on this table, because I cleaned it off for Christmas dinner.”

“Well, I want the clipboard now,” said he (Mr. Oblivious).

“I’m sure you do, but I have no idea where it might be. I haven’t even finished my first cup of coffee today, and already you’re asking me about something of yours, which I didn’t want to use, and which you made me take anyway, ’way back in October!”

Not getting to that happy place of marital bliss this morning, I can tell.

Then he went...out the door, and into his car.

“Goodbye,” said I, not really meaning the ‘good’ part.

After a strenuous day yesterday, I was planning to mostly nap today, but maybe his little clipboard will launch itself out onto the floor in front of me on my way to bed—then I can produce it, triumphantly, pretending I had actually looked for the silly thing. I really don't know where to look.

Written by me, somewhat fictionalized, and inspired, perhaps, by the fact that I’ve been re-reading books by the late, wonderful Stuart MacLean, a Canadian icon: a writer and humourist with a long career in broadcasting and print.

RIP, Stuart, and if you see Lindy up there, give her a cuddle from us.