Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Why do those we love torture us? (Or, why can't I learn to untie a knot?)
So we’re out walking the dogs last night, with two more of Rob’s friends. It’s a good time. We’re walking and chatting, and having a generally good time. I am carrying the NoodleDog’s leash, and Rob is carrying Cooter’s leash. Everyone is happy. Cooter does what dogs do, and I helpfully offer to pick up the poop. Like a GOOD girlfriend (and since I already had a bag going anyway). I hand the NoodleDog’s leash over to Rob for him to hold it so I can more easily maneuver the bag, and Rob takes the leash agreeably.
However, he does this very weird thing with the NoodleDog’s leash, something I have noted in the past and not commented on. It’s an extendi-leash thing with a handle and body to house the spring-loaded leash in it. There is a length of leash that does not retract, and Rob takes this length of leash and somehow folds it around the body, through the handle in an inextricably tight weird permanent fixture, ostensibly for ease of carrying. Whenever I get the leashes back from Rob after he does this, I am completely unable to release whatever he did to it, so I have to struggle with it for a few minutes before I can leash up the NoodleDog, and during the time I’m preoccupied with the leash, the NoodleDog has taken the opportunity to cause trouble by stealing another dog’s ball, or jumping up on an unsuspecting nice person, or chasing something I didn’t want him to chase, or wandering out into the parking lot and try to get run over. So you can see how I wouldn’t want Rob to do the thing he does with the leash.
I say to him “No! You’re not doing that thing with the leash, are you? Don’t do that thing! I can never get it undone!” and he just laughs. He continues to fold and hitch the thing together. I say “Please! Stop! I’ll take the leash back! Honest!”
Does he give me the leash back? No. He does not. He keeps it, all folded up in the manner in which I cannot get it undone, teasing me. I feel completely tortured! I panic! I reach for the leash! He holds it away! He won’t give it back! I say “is this any way to repay the girl who was going to pick up your dog’s poop?” and he still won’t give it back.
Why, dear friends, why? Why must those we love torture us? Just because he can manipulate errant leashes does not mean I’m thusly skilled. I wish I had better opposable thumbs or an extra hand. I wish I could comprehend what he does to the leash so I could more easily undo it. More than anything, though, I wish he wouldn’t do that. Y’arg!
Eventually, he relented and gave me back the leash, but by then, I felt totally stupid about the whole thing. I mean, I’m a fairly intelligent person. Surely I can figure out how to undo a Gordian knot tied in my dog’s leash. Sadly, no. I cannot. I must learn to live within my limitations. And the only way I can do that is to not have such a knot tied in the leash.
Hopefully, my sweet, sweet Rob will understand that I am leash-untying challenged, and will take pity on me, and cease this maddening practice of knot-tying.
However, he does this very weird thing with the NoodleDog’s leash, something I have noted in the past and not commented on. It’s an extendi-leash thing with a handle and body to house the spring-loaded leash in it. There is a length of leash that does not retract, and Rob takes this length of leash and somehow folds it around the body, through the handle in an inextricably tight weird permanent fixture, ostensibly for ease of carrying. Whenever I get the leashes back from Rob after he does this, I am completely unable to release whatever he did to it, so I have to struggle with it for a few minutes before I can leash up the NoodleDog, and during the time I’m preoccupied with the leash, the NoodleDog has taken the opportunity to cause trouble by stealing another dog’s ball, or jumping up on an unsuspecting nice person, or chasing something I didn’t want him to chase, or wandering out into the parking lot and try to get run over. So you can see how I wouldn’t want Rob to do the thing he does with the leash.
I say to him “No! You’re not doing that thing with the leash, are you? Don’t do that thing! I can never get it undone!” and he just laughs. He continues to fold and hitch the thing together. I say “Please! Stop! I’ll take the leash back! Honest!”
Does he give me the leash back? No. He does not. He keeps it, all folded up in the manner in which I cannot get it undone, teasing me. I feel completely tortured! I panic! I reach for the leash! He holds it away! He won’t give it back! I say “is this any way to repay the girl who was going to pick up your dog’s poop?” and he still won’t give it back.
Why, dear friends, why? Why must those we love torture us? Just because he can manipulate errant leashes does not mean I’m thusly skilled. I wish I had better opposable thumbs or an extra hand. I wish I could comprehend what he does to the leash so I could more easily undo it. More than anything, though, I wish he wouldn’t do that. Y’arg!
Eventually, he relented and gave me back the leash, but by then, I felt totally stupid about the whole thing. I mean, I’m a fairly intelligent person. Surely I can figure out how to undo a Gordian knot tied in my dog’s leash. Sadly, no. I cannot. I must learn to live within my limitations. And the only way I can do that is to not have such a knot tied in the leash.
Hopefully, my sweet, sweet Rob will understand that I am leash-untying challenged, and will take pity on me, and cease this maddening practice of knot-tying.
