What I Think

My husband and I think differently.

And that’s an understatement.

We do have similar interests. We share the same faith, the same political leanings.  We are both proclaimed fans of the Chiefs, the Cardinals, the Blues, and Mizzou. And we both enjoy poking fun at ourselves and each other.

And we both love my manicotti.

But we think differently.

He thinks in numbers. And I think in…well, just about anything except for numbers.

If anyone were to ask us about the size of the second house we rented, I would answer, “Small. No closet space. We had our bed in one room and our dresser in another. Tiny. And it had blue carpet, and we had a green couch. But the landlords were good people.”

My husband would answer, “It was under 1500 square feet.” Which would lead me to ponder how 1500 square feet could be small when 1500 dollars could buy…

We think differently.

The other day, we were alone in the truck, probably driving to one of Elder’s basketball games or one of Younger’s math contests. I don’t guess it really matters where we were headed, just that we were headed there alone. And he decided he wanted to explain to me something about somebody’s pyramid.

Now, as a subject, pyramids could have greatly appealed. Except he didn’t want to discuss the Great Pyramid of Khufu. Or of King Tutankhamun. Or of any other Egyptian pharaoh.


Nothing half so interesting.

Apparently, someone also built a pyramid with numbers.

And I just looked at him. Because he’d been smart enough to ask if I had a headache — and gained my denial — before he introduced the subject. The usual excuse I wield when he attempts to better my mind with mathematics.

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way,” he told me, earning the deepening of skepticism crinkling the corners of my eyes and mouth. “But, I figure, if I can explain this to you, then I should be able to explain it to anyone.”

Well, I didn’t know how I could possibly take that the wrong way, as there appeared to be only one way for it to be taken.

Eyebrows climbing high onto my forehead, I pursed my lips. “Fine,” I agreed. “Explain away. Only don’t be insulted if my mind wanders.”

And he didn’t take my comment the wrong way — or the right way, depending on one’s intent. Sometimes, I have to work really hard to insult him. I guess I just wasn’t primed for the challenge that particular day.

And so he started.

Apparently the tiptop of the pyramid was a “one.” I nodded my head. I got that. One. Easy-peasy.

The second line was a “one-two-one.” I wondered why. But I didn’t ask, because my mind was already slipping, and I was thinking about a scene I had written for my latest story.

The third line had a “three.” I think because it was the product of the two numbers above it, which would have been “one” and “two.” Well, there were two combinations of “one” and “two,” so the third line had two “threes.” And, apparently, maybe some other numbers, too. But I wasn’t sure where those numbers came from. But I didn’t ask because…

Well, because I was trying to figure out if, in the scene, I really wanted the waitress to round the counter and approach my main character or if I preferred leaving her behind the physical divider with a coffee pot still in her hand. Because if I brought her into the open area of the restaurant, I then had to keep moving her, and I really didn’t think I wanted her distracting me…

“So, does it make sense?” my husband interrupted my musings.

“Oh.” I blinked at the hand he had lifted to draw imaginary numbers in the air. “I think maybe I need to see it on paper.”

Sure. On paper, it would all be so very clear.

“Yeah, probably,” he agreed, not discouraged a whit. “I just thought…”

But I was already disappearing back inside my head, wondering if I wanted the mother of my main character to be divorced or widowed. I was leaning towards widowed, because the divorce bit appeared to drag emotions into the fray that I didn’t want. But I had already killed the main character’s husband, and another death would have me piling up bodies faster than an axe murderer…

My husband and I, we just don’t think alike.

And I was crazy enough to assist in creating two more just like him and, successfully, obliviously, outnumbered myself.

Oh, the irony…




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