Mr. Q has recently begun storing items on the tops of the kitchen cabinetry. He’s rather proud of his new-found storage, even more-so, it seems, in light of the fact that I can’t reach a damn thing up there. And he feigns terror if I climb up on the counter or a kitchen stool. All this leaves me beholden to him for a bag of popcorn or a new box of cereal.
And yet, it’s a strange thing for a mining engineer with a fear of living on the Juan de Fuca plate and all its associations with potential earthquakes. Placing loose items on high shelving is not recommended. It’s almost as though he’s thumbing his nose at disaster, waiting for the Big One that will bring down boxes of dried goods upon our heads…
At the same time, his lifelong paranoia of raw meats touching anything has turned the tide in one evening as he is presently barbecuing chicken next to the potatoes. It’s touching.
What’s that? You need more proof?
Okay, he also just finished Crazy Glue-ing a broken toilet seat back together. The cheap, builder’s toilet seat that I was kind of happy to see finally broken has now been “repaired” by glueing it for half the recommended time with glue so old that no one remembers where it came from or how many moves it has been through.
Earthquake-induced blunt force trauma? Check.
And he wonders why I under-cook all the veggies that he’s allergic to…