Usually, but not always. When Suzanne goes whistling off to work on weekday mornings, her last instruction to me is almost always, “Be good.” To which I reply some snarky remark like, “If it’s your command, I guess I’ll have to try.” Or, “I’ll be better than good, I’ll be perfect” But when she told me to be good today, I said, “No. That’s all over with. No more being good for me.” There was a palpable silence as she held the door open to the garage, mostly because I never say NO to Suzanne even in jest. Suzanne was temporarily speechless, but not fazed for long. She said, “Well, just call if you need me to bail you out of jail.” And then she left, shutting the door behind her, before I could say anything in response.
I got thinking about it, and I realized Suzanne always jokes with me to be good because she pretty much assumes I’m already planning on being good— which, I admit, is true. But I’m kinda insulted that she doesn’t really think I’m capable of getting into mischief. I took that as a challenge. So what bad things did I do today?
I didn’t wear a bra. I didn’t do errands. I didn’t walk Skitter to pick up the mail. I cooked myself liver for lunch, so the house will likely still reek of the smell when Suzanne gets home. I said all the swear words I could think of, just to be really, really bad. Of course, I made sure to shut Skitter in her crate upstairs while I went downstairs to swear. Swearing in front of Skitter is a level of bad where I will never go.
The baddest thing I did today is so bad that I will undo it before Suzanne gets home: Bow Tie o’ the Day and I completed the PENCILS puzzle Suzanne and I started over the weekend. Check out those photos. To fully appreciate how bad that is, you have to understand that in our entire decades-long relationship, our puzzling partnership has evolved to seamless workmanship. There are unsaid, unwritten rules and responsibilities. I don’t know how or why the rules came into being, but I don’t mess with them. For example, I am responsible for getting the puzzle pieces spread out on the table, right-side up. I am also in charge of finding all the edge pieces, and setting them aside. Suzanne is the only one allowed to put together the edge pieces. And one of the other rules is that Suzanne gets to finish the puzzle— whether she puts in the last hundred pieces or the last three. The point is that Suzanne completes the puzzles. Always. See how bad I was today?
So I guess I can be bad if I try hard, but I am not stoopid. I will take 40 or so random pieces out of the already-finished puzzle. I will lay them out all around the table, so when Suzanne comes home from work tonight, she can relax ’round the puzzle which she will finish. Oh, happy day! And I won’t need to be bailed out of jail!
FYI Don’t worry about Suzanne finding out I actually completed the puzzle, out of my sincere attempt to be bad. She doesn’t read TIE O’ THE DAY daily. She binge-reads it when she has time, and I happen to know she’s too busy this week to read it at all. By the time she reads this post, I will have already felt so guilty about the puzzle lie, to the point that I will have already confessed to her and been forgiven. It’s all good.