Candi's Corner: Stay out of my bed, mister

There are some things in a marriage that are so sacred, they are just not negotiable. The lines are drawn so deep in the sand that some can even be illegal and result in arrest and prosecution. I think that’s a tad bit radical, but worth it, if it will protect my flowerbed.

Kermit, my husband, non-chalantly announced to me, “I ordered some flowers for around the light pole and the front of the house.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, my ears flattened and my claws came out. “I don’t know what flowers you ordered,” I hissed, “but they are not going around my light pole or the front of this house.”

He had the audacity to look surprised. He thought he was doing me a favor. I thought he was declaring war.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. “I ordered some butterfly flowers to attract butterflies.”

I snarled, “The problem is you get the vegetable garden and I get the flower bed. We agreed on that. If you want to cross this line, you better order some bodyguard flowers to attract bodyguards.”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” he said innocently.

“Last year,” I growled, “I planted 96 petunias you brought home for my flower bed. I don’t like petunias. They die too much and are rubbery and sticky when I pluck the dead ones. Then at the end of fall, they wouldn’t go away. I thought they’d live through the winter just to annoy me.”

He conceded, “Fine, no petunias. But I got them at a really good price. What’s wrong with that?”

I explained, “You didn’t pay the price. I did, with sticky rubbery fingers. The year before that you brought home a multitude of marigolds for my flower bed. They were pretty but they stink. So then I had stinky fingers. I will decide what to plant in my flowerbed just like you decide what to plant in your vegetable garden. What’s wrong with that?” I challenged.

“What’s wrong with that,” he snarled, “is you have no idea what to plant. The year before the marigolds you planted too many climbing morning glories. They engulfed the light pole so much that not even light could escape and I thought they would tear the house down. And the year before that,” he growled, “you planted wild flowers that were mostly weeds and you didn’t know the difference. That’s why I don’t want you in the vegetable garden. At least when I plant flowers – they are flowers,” he said smugly.

“I don’t care,” I hissed. “We made a deal. I stay out of your garden – you stay out of my bed. This is not negotiable.”

Tags: opinion, osakis