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My wife didn't think it possible for one person to get into that much trouble in so little unsupervised time. Otherwise, she wouldn't have left me alone.
Personally, outside of that little incident with the strawberries, bananas, ice cream and the blender (tops should fit better than that), I didn't notice the disaster she kept babbling about when she returned home. "I should never have accepted those assignments. I shouldn't have left."
I moved my socks off the dining room table, pulled out a chair, suddenly remembered where I left the salmon I set out to thaw, slipped the package under my shirt, and invited my wife to sit down. "Bad trip, sweetie?"
Terry rested her head on the table, coughed, wrinkled her nose and jumped up. "The trip was fine. Great, in fact. It's the coming home to this."
I looked around. "Well, I know it's not much, but it's the only house we've lived in. I figured you'd be used to it by now."
Terry rubbed her temples. "Why are there pots and pans around your easy chair?"
I looked. I hadn't noticed they were there. "Maybe the squirrels did it. I was sure I'd put them in the sink after I was done eating."
"Are the plates in the cushions?"
Sometimes she asks weird questions. "Of course not. I didn't use any. It was only me, so I ate out of the pans. Fewer dishes to wash."
Terry backtracked to the kitchen. "I notice you didn't wash any dishes."
"I must have. The sink's empty."
"Of course the sink's empty. The pots are on the floor. And on the stove."
I scratched my head. "I know I washed something. Oh yeah, I did laundry."
"Please tell me you didn't."
"Hey, I do my share of housework. By the way, we're out of laundry soap."
Terry lifted a big red bottle off the shelf over the washer. "It's still three-quarters full."
I shrugged. "Oh, there it is. I couldn't find it."
"So what did you use?"
"Dawn."
"Dish soap?"
"Soap is soap. Besides, it says it gets out grease and I kinda had an accident working on the car."
"So you soaked…"
"What?"
Terry yanked open the lid of the washer. "You packed all those clothes in one load?" She gasped. "You washed my silk blouse? Don't tell me your work clothes are in…" Slowly, she lowered the lid. I didn't have to tell her.
I began to wish I'd remembered where the vacuum cleaner was. Fortunately, even though I wore muddy shoes in the house, I hadn't noticed any dirt.
"You know how you always like to have the bed made, even when we're not having company? Guess what? The bed's made."
Terry's eyebrows shot up. "You made the bed."
"Well, no. I never unmade it. I slept on top of the quilt. Well, mostly I slept in my recliner. But when I went to bed, I just dragged the afghans from the couch over me. Isn't that great!"
She sighed. "You think you're helping but you're not."
"So listen, then next time you have to take a trip, I'm going to fix that leak for you. Did I tell you about the leak? I'm pretty sure it wasn't my fault. Anyway, I polished my power saw and everything."
She picked a cloth off the end table where I left it, doused it in cold water and placed it over her eyes. "At least our home insurance is paid."
"Of course it is. I did it mysel… Um, er, you just rest up from your trip. I'll be right back."
As I drove to the post office, I realized she'd forgotten to tell me what the disaster was.
— Share disasters with Cole at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook. His latest novel, "Bash and the Chocolate Milk Cows," will be in bookstores May 1.