Further Conversations With The Missus

Of course it's not as if she never gets the better of me... Here's a sample from the day thus far.

Conversation the First
(In the dark, at five in the morning, after a night of insomnia.)

The Oaf: The thing is that it set off my obsessiveness. It's like the time my buddy and I mixed it up when he said that rotation is gravity.

The Missus: Well, there is a type of rotation that is gravity. It's called Coriolis Force or something.

The Oaf (grits teeth): You mean Centrifugal Force. That isn't gravity at all. It's constrained inertia. Under some circumstances it can mimic gravity...

The Missus: I think your friend was probably right. It makes sense to me.

The Oaf: No, gravity is a basic force. What you're talking about is just --

The Missus: Yeah, I think rotation is gravity.

The Oaf (briefly contemplates getting up and fetching a string and a bucket and some paper and colored pens with which to draw diagrams): Whatever.

Conversation the Second
(In the kitchen, as the dogs lick out plastic containers previously holding stock.)

The Oaf (In reference to Amanda, the Australian sheepdog.): I wish she wasn't getting deaf. I hate having to fetch her.

The Missus: Well, the next time you call her try thinking her name really loud.

The Oaf (Gives a look of cold loathing.): ...

The Missus: She's telepathic.

The Oaf: ...

The Missus: Shut up. I know it's woo. Just do it.

Conversation the Third
(In the parking lot at Berkeley Bowl.)

The Oaf: Man, the sight of that old guy gave me the willies.

The Missus: Which one, the one in the walker or the one in the wheelchair?

The Oaf: The one in the wheelchair. The way my back's going I've got to wonder if I'm gonna be in one of those when I'm that age.

The Missus: You won't live to be that old. You're going to die when you're sixty.

The Oaf: What the fuck?

The Missus: You're going to die when you're sixty and I'm going to die when I'm eighty. We'll die at the same time.

The Oaf: Telling someone they're going to die when they're sixty is no way to make them feel any better.

The Missus: Maybe I'm not trying to make you feel better. (Locks eyes with oaf and delivers a fiery gaze as her hair coils around her face, Medusa-fashion.) Maybe I'm just torturing you.

Today's Final score:

The Oaf: 0
The Missus: 3