Timeshares

John had just gotten out of the shower, and was drying himself off when he noticed that his socks were not on the bed.

"Marsha, where the hell are my socks?"

Hearing nothing, he yelled out again, but now in a more irritated voice. "Hey woman, I’m talking to you! The least you could do is answer."

Marsha could hear him all right, but she had a hard time wanting to answer. His tone was very ugly and demeaning. But most of all, this had become very irritating over the last few years.

"Damn it to hell, where is that woman", John mumbled. "It seems, when you don’t want her, she’s right by your side and when you need her, she takes off."

While John was searching the bed for his socks, he was thinking how lazy his wife really was. No doubt about it, she was one lucky woman to have such a hard workingman, like himself. All she does is stay home and do nothing, while I go to work and manage twenty-three of the ugliest, meanest, crudest, tree cutters anywhere. And speaking of work, where are those damn socks! Shit, can’t she do anything right?

"Look Marsha, I’m really getting pissed! You better tell me where you put those socks, or so help me…"

Marsha shook her head in disbelief. This wasn’t the first time this conversation took place. "Have you looked in your sock drawer? You know, the same one I put your underwear in. And there is no need to cuss. It won’t get your socks any faster."

John was taken back. The sock drawer crap again? She knows damn good and well, that when I get out of the shower, all of my clothes are to be laid out on the bed, that was suppose to include the socks. Who told her to put them in a ‘sock drawer’? I don’t have a ‘pants drawer’; damn sure, I don’t have a ‘shirt drawer’. Why in the hell does she have to create a ‘sock drawer’?

Walking over to the dresser and opening the top drawer, he saw his socks. Each sock folded into pairs and then stacked neatly next to his underwear, just like she said. How lazy can she get? All she had to do was put them on the bed, but nooo, she can’t even do that right. She had to put them in a special place called the ‘sock drawer’. Taking out a gray pair of socks, he continued to get dressed.

Marsha was down stairs sitting at the breakfast table. She thought back to the time when they considered having kids. John was all for it, but she had some real reservations. What if John started treating the kids, like he treats her? Or what if they got divorced, god forbid, what would happen to the kids. Her mom had once told her that having kids was a lot of responsibility for both parents. She felt ready to bear the responsibility, but she didn’t think John did. Nope, as far as she was concerned, this would not be the right time. So, instead of telling John about her fears, she continued taking the birth control pills. She looked upon this as a good stopgap, until she had a chance to talk to John about his behavior.

Smiling to herself she thought; On top of that, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

As John was coming downstairs he yelled, "Marsha, because you played ‘hide the socks’ this morning, I won’t have time to eat breakfast.