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Thoughtfulness is a dangerous business. I know. Never am I in more trouble than when I attempt to commit an act of kindness. Especially if my spouse is the intended kindee.
I'm not alone. I read in the news last week that a guy named Bill dropped by the lawn and garden section of a home improvement store in Denver, N.C., to surprise his wife with flowers.
I'm sure he figured such a blatant act of thoughtfulness would reap wondrous rewards. His grateful wife might throw her arms around, kiss him softly, and whisper those words he longed to hear: "Why don't you watch the ball game instead of cleaning the garage this weekend."
Alas, no good ever comes of thoughtfulness.
A 4 1/2-foot-long copperhead snake popped out of the plants and bit Bill on the wrist. Bill ended up at a hospital, where he was injected with anti-venom and treated for swelling.
His wife, Julie, said, "I think he might stick with chocolates from now on and not flowers."
Chocolates, of course, are the way to go. In fact, one of the most thoughtful things you can do for your spouse is to buy her your favorite chocolates, the ones filled with the caramel that she can't stand. That way, you've both marked an occasion AND saved her waistline from unexpected calories.
That's another good deed that never seems to go well for me.
I've learned, painfully, that whenever you're tempted to do something nice for someone -- especially if you are married to that special someone -- it's best to ensconce yourself in your La-Z-Boy until the hankering passes.
Once, I decided to surprise my sweet Terry by doing the laundry, a job she tends to hoard. I also -- because I love her dearly -- wanted to show her my much-more-efficient way to get all the dirties clean quickly.
I emptied the whole basket into the washer, used the broom handle to pack the clothes in tightly, and let 'er rip.
Apparently, there actually is a reason to separate the colors from the whites. The dungarees from the delicates. The ink pens from the pockets. The shrinkables from the waterables.
She held up a doll-sized sweater -- a replica of a full-size garment of her own, except for the shredded spots, and the pink and blue blotches -- and yelled, "You think you're helping but you're not not."
Once, I tried to surprise her by putting up that addition she kept talking about. Why not? I'm pretty good with a sledgehammer.
I guess I need some work yet with the nail-pounding kind of hammers. And saws. And beams. A blueprint wouldn't have hurt, either. That's what a definitely surprised Terry pointed out.
"Whatever happened to, 'It's the thought that counts?" I asked.
"It's January. It would be easier to think if we still had an outside wall."
That's how it goes. All my acts of thoughtfulness are snake-bitten. And now I see the story of my new hero, Bill, bit by an actual snake trying to gift his wife with a nice surprise.
So I make this promise to my sweetie -- the most thoughtful thing I can do -- I won't try to do anything nice ever again. It's safer that way. For both of us.
— Tell Cole about your heroic acts of misguided thoughtfulness at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.