For a few weeks now, there has been a disagreement here in our house over a bike. Silly, huh? Handy Dad insisted that he bought his bike before we were together. I insisted that I remember accompanying him to the bike shop and picking it out. You should have heard us last Sunday in the car to the park.
"I know that you bought it when we were together, because I remember getting it."
"No I didn't. I bought it way before I ever knew you. You are wrong."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"No, I'm NOT."
"Fine then, we'll check the receipt when we get home. If I'm right, you'll owe me. I'll make you do something like kiss my feet."
"EWW!" I recoiled in horror. Kissing feet is not my idea of a good time, even if they belong to my husband.
"And if I'm right? You can be sure I'm going to be creative about getting you to do something, mister."
The week went by, the bike was forgotten. Until yesterday.
Yesterday morning we had a problem with a toilet in the house that decided to err...back up. Messily. I tried to plunge the thing to no avail, and Handy Dad valiantly stepped in and braved the sewage and the smell to give that toilet a particularly good plunging. The whole incident reminded me of a very funny post over on Looky Daddy, but fortunately our toilet was not spewing like a fountain, just...um...overflowing.
Soon all was well and Handy Dad left later on that afternoon to get a haircut, while I had the nasty job of cleaning up the mess that was all over the bathroom. While he was out, I began looking for the receipt for the bike in question and found it in our desk among all the other warranties and things for appliances. The date on the receipt?
February 26, 1993. We had been living together for 4 months by then. I was right. When he came through the door, in a grand show of "I'm right and you were wrong," I waved the papers in front of him.
"So what do you want?" he sighed. I had him-I could've asked for breakfast in bed, gotten him to vacuum for me, clean the bathrooms, whatever I wanted. That was the deal that he had made up, after all. Whoever won got to make the person who lost do something for them.
"Somehow I think fixing that toilet was enough," I smiled back. He let out a grateful sigh and began fixing himself a cup of coffee.
Certainly it was a lot grosser then kissing his feet.