Look Who's Talking

The Look Who's Talking movies may be symptomatic of our collective mental health issues, but I do sometimes look at animals or my own small children (and really, how different are animals and small children?) and imagine what is running through their heads. I don't usually use celebrity voices in my mind, though, as I'm low budget all the way.

I first noticed this propensity in myself when I lived alone. I had ample time to observe my insane ex-cat Clio and project mental dialogue onto her, like so:

Clio (walking from the living room to the kitchen): I think it's time for a snack, or maybe I could find a nice plastic bag to chew on [one of this cat's more annoying features was a plastic fixation].
Clio (walking immediately back into the living room, having already forgotten about the quest for food): HOLY SHIT, there's a living room here! And a woman! And a TV and a couch and a plant and oh my god oh my god ACK!

Whereupon, the deranged animal would leap laterally about three feet, all fur extended outward cartoon-like, and streak from the room, only to return moments later for a repeat performance.

My now-husband and I had a boss at the Company of Suck that we likened to Clio. Every day was new to this man. He'd walk into a meeting and have that same baffled look on his face, like "where did all these people come from? what am I doing here? where did this coffee in my hand come from?" I took to communicating with him exclusively in emails, so I could refer back to our discussions in writing instead of reinventing the conversational wheel every single day.

All of this leads me to my actual point, which has to do with my husband (isn't it always such a pleasant surprise to find that I do have a point?). He is very energetic and works hard both at his job and at home, for which I am very grateful. However - he is prone to unrecoverable interruptions while working, which results in him leaving little tableaus of unfinished crap all over the house, which in turn prompts me to imagine, Look Who's Talking-style, what went through his head to lead to whatever pile is currently in front of me.

For example - this morning, I walked into the downstairs bathroom, and directly into the stepladder. Each step of the ladder contained its own pile of detritus, arranged in variously precarious positions. On one step, a hammer, dangling just on the edge of balance, waiting for a bare foot to trigger its fall and then pause just in its path. Two steps up, two nearly-full and partially-open (for maximum scattering, presumably) plastic boxes, one of screws and one of nails. Scattered among and between these primary perils, random papers with still more random scrawling in my husband's handwriting. The phrase "a picture is worth a thousand words" just popped into my head - at the rate I'm rambling, that may be literally true, but I'm too lazy and tired just now to take a picture, sorry.

So, here is the mental conversation I imagine my husband having that might have led to him leaving such a cluster of hazards in such a high-traffic area.

Husband (wielding a hammer, inspecting the creeping progress of the shower enclosure): This is really coming along! I think we're almost ready for the rest of the plumbing! Just think, a sink in the bathroom. Such decadence. I hope my family appreciates all this (looks out the window)...ooo, look, there's a squirrel in the yard. Shoot, that rotting pumpkin is out there (wanders toward the back door to confirm). Hope that squirrel doesn't eat it. Or a rat, I wonder if there really is a rat. I bet it was just a mouse. But the dog killed a mouse, maybe they're gone now. Oh, I bet the dog is hungry, better feed him (changes course, opens the bag of dog food. Catches sight of the thermometer in the mud room). Wow, 50 degrees in here, wonder what it is in the house? (Goes back inside, walks toward front room to check thermostat, sees the dishes on the kitchen island). I think I'll give my mother-in-law a break and do the dishes! (Opens dishwasher, puts away 3 forks and a cup). Mmm, I'm getting thirsty, wonder what we have to drink. (Opens fridge, sees that there's less than a full glass left of soda, hears the Amazing Race theme song). "Honey, pause it, I'll be right there!" (Seats self in ass print on couch, settles in for the long haul).

And so, I imagine, it followed logically that all of the tools of the bathroom work were left out like booby traps, the dog remained unfed, and the bulk of the dishes remained in the dishwasher. This is why it's so important to look at intentions, as well as actual results (god knows it necessary for anyone living with me to evaluate my contributions based at least as much on my intentions as on my actual accomplishments). I think it's actually charitable of me to attribute this monologue to my husband, rather than assuming that he's trying to kill the rest of us off with his negligence. See? I'm a nice wife.