I was talking to my wife the other day while having breakfast in front of the TV. She said, “That’s the only way I can get you off that computer.”
I said, “Yes, dear.”
“You never listen,” he said.
I said, “I’ll take out the trash right after I finish my breakfast.”
Sometimes my wife says that I never listen to her. He said it just a minute ago, but rude always has my full attention.
I thought about it the other day. Even if I am near perfect, I could take some steps to improve. I said, “I’m taking some steps to improve. I can’t seem to think of a list.”
“Don’t give up,” she replied.
After seventy-three years of self-improvement, using statistical process control, it is difficult to come up with a complete list of things you need to do to improve. Think about it. The devil has practically lost control over you.
I spoke to the devil the other day. Here’s what he said: “You’re perfect, John.”
I thanked Satan for the compliment. I said, “Thank you, Satan!”
He wagged his tail like he does and said, “I’ll see you!” He gave that mischievous smile of his and disappeared into the plume of red smoke that he has developed over eons. It’s no wonder we have so many Devil worshipers.
I try to remember what he did to poor Job. Do I really hate boils?
I decided not to make a list of things that I could improve using my computer. It’s much better to use pencil and paper if you want to get creative. Who was that mystery writer who sat on his deck in Florida and wrote each novel on a notepad? When he finished, he took the notebook to a typist and then sent it to his editor. He did it over and over again. Not once was he interrupted by the computer that did not belong to him. Think about it!
There was a blank page in front of me begging me to list my self-improvement items. Even without the computer, he couldn’t think of a thing except that he could have ice cream every other day instead of just twice a week.
I asked my wife, “You don’t have any items that I can put on my self-improvement list, do you?”
My wife hangs out in her craft room where she is currently knitting Christmas stockings for our three grandchildren in Seattle. When our first grandson was born, she knitted a stocking for her. I said, “You’ll be sorry!” But she continued to knit Christmas stockings and is turning 30, 31 and 32 years old.
I look at the stocking he was working on. The stocking’s name was our first great-grandson. He saw no reason to tell her that he would regret it again. She says I don’t listen!
I ran back to my blank sheet of paper and wrote: Don’t tell your wife to stop knitting.
When the triplets were born, my granddaughter said, “I have a new baby sister and she has two brothers!” We went there for the triplets’ first birthday and saw them throw cake in their faces. The women from our church who had worked the three-woman shift five times a day for over six months were all there. I have never heard of such devoted service before.
Anyway, I went to see my wife and said, “Did you come up with something?”
She was in the middle of a delicate stitch. She nodded and I saw that she had written some things. The list had fallen to the ground. I picked it up and left his lair without reading it. But it seemed longer than I expected. I thought this is one of his tricks. She is going to tease me. This is going to be fun to read. I sat in my rocking chair and went through the list:
Pick up your socks.
Keep your bathroom sink clean. Not spit!
Don’t pick your nose.
Try to bathe more than once a week even in winter.
Change the boiler filter more frequently. Once every two years is not enough.
Balance the checkbook.
Pull on the dandelions even if you think they are pretty.
Rake the leaves. They are NOT good for grass.
Stop giving your grandchildren everything under the sun. You’re spoiling them. No more toasted marshmallows.
Get away from the computer and take the grandkids fishing.
Don’t wash your brushes in the kitchen sink.
Stop stacking books and papers around your desk. I need to be able to find you.
Don’t start any more websites. That is why you are always broke.
I know you lost a novel while downloading Service Pack II. That doesn’t mean you can’t write another one. Back to Canyon Diablo!
Stop buying books on Amazon every time you turn around. Do you really need to buy? I was a headhunter for $ 25.00 just because you liked it when you were a kid?
(That last one hurts a lot!) Back to the list:
Stop lending my truck to every poor soul you think needs it. The last boy kept it for a week.
Sour milk is not good for trees.
Stop calling the neighbor’s dog “Orville.” His name is “Wilbur”.
He stops going to the track at exactly 4:00 when that Mexican is jogging.
We only need one package of bananas at a time. You don’t have to fill the cart.
There is only a limited amount of space in the refrigerator for eggs.
You only need two boxes of cake mix a week for grandson’s cake. You don’t have to buy cake mix if there are a lot of them.
The frosting is suitable for a cake. You don’t have to stack fruit until it looks like Carman Miranda’s hat.
(That was cruel!) Back to the list:
Stop hugging all the ladies in the church, especially Sister Corolla.
Five casseroles are enough to prepare one of your gourmet dinners.
Do not place pans on top of dishes in the sink.
Don’t put glasses under plates either.
When you cook, the broom is behind the refrigerator.
When Alice Brown asked him to read her thesis, he didn’t have to rewrite it for her. I think maybe that’s why he didn’t get his degree. She hasn’t been since.
Do you really need seventeen fishing rods? Give the grandchildren some.
(That was another jacket!)
Don’t buy that hunting rifle you’ve been lifting at Wal-Mart. You have to be able to climb a hill to hunt.
Get started on your Christmas poem. December 26 is too late.
Don’t wait three days to get your garbage cans off the sidewalk.
Stop trying to rejoin the military to fight in Iraq. I know you old folks could fix things in three weeks, but the army doesn’t want you. Do I have to keep telling you that? Does the mall recruiter have to keep telling you that?
(Well, we could clean it up in three weeks!) The last one was:
Get me another sheet of paper.
Copyright © John T. Jones, Ph.D. 2005