Sunday, October 14, 2012


 It's not news to anyone who knows me or reads this blog that I'm obsessed with House, M.D. starring Hugh Laurie, the man I'm going to marry next time the great British actor.  Months ago I got my husband into the show and we've been slowly making our way through the seasons, an episode or two a day.  (We're almost done with the second to last season and whenever he pisses me off about anything I threaten to tell him what happens in the last episode.)  As soon as I started watching the series I saw eery similarities between the House/Wilson relationship and that of my own marital one.

As House's best friend, Wilson is the one who looks after his interests, tries to protect him from his own destructive habits, catches him when he falls.  In return, House makes fun of him, pulls pranks, and generally abuses him on a daily basis.  And each time, Wilson comes back for more.  "Would never happen in real life!", critics might scream.  Well...

After The Vulcan had his heart surgery, he bristled against my nursing style and compared me to Kathy Bates in Misery -- and then found his bathroom and bedroom plastered with photos of the knife-wielding caretaker. 

He had the nerve to insult me in some fashion and then discovered a picture of himself hanging on the refrigerator with a plastic knife piercing the crotch and a line from my favorite Chicago song written across the bottom ("he had it comin', he had it comin', he only had himself to blame").

He hovers over the kitchen counter when making PB&J sandwiches, like a dog protecting a bone, because if he lets his attention slip for half a second I smash my hand down on the bread.

When The Vulcan got his vasectomy during the holiday season, I serenaded him with "All I Want for Christmas Are My Testicles" to the tune of  "All I Want for Christmas Are My Two Front Teeth."

Despite his frequent warnings that I'm not to touch his computers, with all their stock market tickers and graphs flying around the screens, he frequently comes back from the bathroom to find me in his office chair chirping, "I'm gonna buy a stock."

And then there's that cane he bought me for Mother's Day.  What an idiot he was to acquiesce to that request...

Wilson would never stay with House and all his personality quirks, you say?  Well, my husband's been here for 17 years and shows no signs of leaving.  I know he's just joking when he says he can't, the alimony would cost him too much.  He's as happy today as he was 17 years ago.  Might be time for the man to talk to a psychiatrist about that.


* To Tree Or Not To Tree

Don't You Have Anything Better To Do?

1 comment:

quilt32 said...

But wouldn't life have been boring for him if you hadn't come along.