The Seward Phoenix Log - News of the Eastern Kenai Peninsula since 1966

I know there's something I should say

 


Warning: The following article may contain comments that are unhealthy for male members of the human species to repeat. Repeat what you are about to read at your own risk.

Here’s the deal. My name is Tommy and I’m going to confess that I have problems. I’m a forgetter of personal information, and I stink at taking hints. If it isn’t a football statistic, then I guarantee I will not remember it for more than 2.3 seconds. If it isn’t on ESPN, then I probably won’t hear/see it.

It was nice to get that off my chest. I have been carrying that secret around with me since ... well, since She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Made-Mad told me I had problems.

I realize my problems are very simple in nature, and really only affect SWMNBMM. You see, for the life of me, I can’t seem to remember our anniversary, my age, where my other sock went, or ... dang it! Now I can’t remember the other thing I was going to tell you I can’t remember.

Oh yeah! Her birthday.

I have adapted though. Through the years, whenever I can’t remember someone’s name, I just call them “Chief.” I usually agree when one of the kids say it is their birthday, or when the phone company says I haven’t paid them in three months. I admit it. I usually don’t know what day it is ... they all run together.

As any woman can tell you, the biggest mistake a guy can make is not remembering her birthday or anniversary.

For years, SWMNBMM has spent countless hours trying to leave hints around the house/office when our anniversary or her birthday were approaching. I’d find flowers, or a small note. Once when we were younger, I found a note while looking for the passcode to my phone. It was a cryptic message of “7/27/1968,” and a picture of a baby on it.

To be honest, when I saw it I thought it meant, “Baby, here’s the passcode to your phone.” It wasn’t. Honestly, how in the heck could I call and tell her something that I can’t remember when she gave me the wrong passcode.

“How could you not know July 27 is my birthday?” she would always say.

Truthfully, it is hard for me to remember things that I wasn’t there for. I was barely 3 when she was hatched ... how do you think I’m supposed to remember something that happened that long ago?

I tried to assure her it is a male hard drive issue. There’s only so much space in Boomer’s brain, so I have to carefully monitor what enters so I don’t run out.

“Besides, you know, it’s really your fault I didn’t remember,” I pleaded. “You know I can’t take hints. You should have just told me. That’s what normal wives do.”

Needless to say, I didn’t get any cake for a long time ... or food, or matching socks ...

That’s not going to be the case this year. This year, I have told my brother to call me on that fateful day and remind when SWMNBMM’s birthday is at hand.

I hope he does, If not, we’re both going to be in trouble.

Tommy Wells is the interim editor of the Seward Phoenix LOG. He swears everything in this column is true except for the parts that are made up, exaggerated or just plain lies.

 

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