I had to ban him from Matchmaker.com.
No worries, it's not THEE Matchmaker.com, it's his own little dating system thingie.
Such a softie. The thought of a sock sitting home alone on a Saturday night just kills him, so he's taken it upon himself to match up every lonely sock within a 2,400 square foot radius.
He just doesn't get that you can't hurry love. Even for socks. Patience truly is a virtue when you're waiting for your sole mate.
Any interference whatsoever throws off the balance and harmony of footwear foreordination.
(Plus it makes our kids look goofy.)
I have to hand it to him though, he's tolerant. And accepting. He accepts everyone and everything just as they are. He wouldn't hurt a fly. And he wouldn't try to change that fly either. It was hard enough for him to change diapers because he didn't want to make the diapers feel bad about themselves.
He's the same with light bulbs. Heaven forbid we hurt a light bulb's feelings just because it doesn't shine anymore. "Just leave it be," he says. "I don't want it to know we want to change it just because it isn't meeting our needs anymore."
At least he finally changed the recording on his office answering machine. Usually when I call his office, a reassuring voice asks me to leave a message for "Dr. Dunaway." Today, however, my hub's voice startled me by asking me to leave a message for . . . HIM.
It's Dr. Dunaway's fault that we're here in Utah, btw. He decided to retire. And then BYU decided to rehire.
Every day for the past 6 months Dr. Dunaway has been assuring me that he just stepped out of the office. And I believed him. I was convinced he would be back shortly, as promised, and that we weren't even in Utah at all.
But we really are here, aren't we?
Or maybe we're not.
After all, my silly goose hub still hasn't changed the car clocks or the computer clocks from Hawaiian time.