Monday, February 19, 2007

The Fuzzball

Husband returned from his annual snowmobiling trip yesterday wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he left days ago. After being mauled affectionately by the kids and the dog for about five minutes, it was my turn for a hug.

After hugging me and telling me he missed me (three times!), our embrace was interrupted by our daughter as she danced in a circle around us singing, "Mommy and Daddy sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-P-N-R-T." He laughed and picked her up, hugging her again. While he was holding her, she reached in his pocket and pulled out his toothbrush.

"See," he said, smiling proudly. "I kept my toothbrush right here all the time. Just like last year. " Then he pulled off his hat and laughed. "Do you like my hair?"

"Um, not so much."

I gently prodded him toward the shower, urging him to pry the clothes off his body and bathe. I sat on the bed as he regaled me with tall tales from his trip to the woods and his travels on his "snow machine." While standing in his boxers and flexing his muscles for a moment in front of the mirror, he paused and scratched his stomach. This is when the Fuzzball appeared.

"Hmm," he said, inspecting the foreign object he had extracted from his belly button. "Look at this lint and fuzz. Can you believe that came from my stomach?"

I wanted to scream, "Yes! You haven't showered in four days!" Instead, I said nothing while watching him inspect and admire his treasure.

I'm not a prissy girl. I can get ready in 30 minutes flat, and that includes getting dressed, putting on makeup, and styling my hair. I've been known to wash my hair in the lake and shave my legs off the back of my boat. But who doesn't shower for several days? I mean, this is a guy who normally showers twice a day, and he didn't even remove his clothing for four days. I'm surprised he could get his clothes off without a chisel.

Finally, I said, "So, does anyone shower on this trip?"

"Nah. We don't have time for that."

I jumped off the bed, turned on the shower, and handed him a towel. "Okay, um, perhaps you can make time for it now."

Thankfully, he is back to his usual groomed, attractive, clean-smelling self. He has taken control of the thermostat again, so the house (which was warm and toasty in his absence) is now in its usual chilly state. The kids and the dog have their Daddy Alert System in full effect and eagerly await his return from work so they can play hide and seek and wrestle. And I'm relaxed again, just knowing he's here. We all missed him when he was gone, and we're all thrilled he's home ... and bathed.

Other thoughts ... Lent is approaching, and I have yet to decide what to give up this year. Last year it was Pull and Peel Twizzlers. This year, it's a toss between chocolate chip cookies and Ritz Bitz Smores Snack Crackers. Unfortunately, I'm fully aware that I can consume record amounts of either treat while writing, watching TV, doing laundry, emailing friends ...

Prison Break is back on tonight, which is a good thing. I missed Wentworth Miller last week.

Still reading I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. 17-year-old Cassandra narrates the story as she writes from the barn, kitchen sink, or the bathtub. She's very charming, and I enjoy hearing about the writing process in the eyes of a teenager who has nothing to do but sit around and write all day. She also alludes to Pride and Prejudice often, and any mention of the Bennett sisters or my Mr. Darcy is a sure way to win with me.


debyz said...

I think that maybe the fuzzball falls into the same category as the eye gunk and toe jam but not quite as "yuck"

Seymore Butts said...

be grateful your husband doesn't produce a daily fuzzball.. ewww.