The Wife, that is.
This morning she came downstairs wearing her workout clothes. I naturally assumed she intended to get some exercise, either practice her Tai chi or follow along with her workout video. With the elder rugrats off to school and preschool, she has only the Mistress of Pain for two hours.
She says no, she’s just dressed comfortably to clean the house. The Mistress of Pain climbs on her and prevents her from getting her workout in.
I told her she needs to strap the MoP to her back, like Yoda. Just think about that, the MoP riding along as she’s busting out those ninja Tai chi moves. Hells yeah, that would be bad ass.
She gave me The Look. The one that says “You better shut up before I call the guys in the white coats. Again.”
I reaffirmed my assertion that she could indeed pull it off. The MoP is about the right size, and if Luke Skywalker can run through the forest and levitate rocks with Yoda on his back, then she should have no problem parting the wild horse’s mane or spreading the white crane’s wings with the MoP mounted up. I even offered to teach the MoP to say things like “Getting stronger you are!” and “Squat lower you must!”
Something happened to The Look. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it changed. Subtly. I thought maybe the brilliance of my suggestion had temporarily dazzled her, and she would at last take a piece of my advice and find that it was good.
Instead I got kicked out of the house and sent to work.
Women. Go figure.