I love Husband. Really I do. But sometimes we clash over our ideas of time. I like to take deep breaths between life's little excitements. If I have a bunch of things to do in a day, I try to space them out and relax in between. Husband, he's different. Here's an example: If we were (hypothetically) going away for a few days and had to (hypothetically) leave by 6 AM, he'd be okay with us throwing a (hypothetical) huge, 5-course dinner party for ten the night before. Me? I don't like to be rushed. "Why is this relevant," you may ask? Because I want you to understand the rest of my tournament story. Plus, I wouldn't mind some, "Wow! You are a saint!" comments.
BJJ is often compared to chess. So, here's one more way they are similar. Their tournaments, inexplicably, last far longer than one could ever imagine they need to. It's pretty much sit around and wait. Fight. Fight. Sit around some more. Fight. Before you know it, your skin is vampire-pasty from spending all your daylight hours indoors. I was forewarned, and thought Husband knew that I would be pretty much out of commission that day. He, however, had other plans.
You see, we were invited to a pool party. At 3 PM. (Actually, there were two pool parties, but the one at noon was canceled because my son's friend was barfing.) It was kind of a work pool party in the sense that we were invited by some of Husband's parishioners. You know, the people who employ him and pay his salary. I really wanted to go to the party, just maybe not that day. According to Husband, every other day this summer was out of the question. Husband pushed it back from 3 PM to 4 PM. I was still skeptical that I'd be able to go. Really. Who schedules a social engagement the night of a tournament? I guess the same dude who books himself to officiate a wedding a few hours after he's run a half marathon.
During the tournament, it became apparent that I was not going to make 4 PM. Husband called and said we'd be there at 5. That seemed kind of doable, except for one thing.
"Honey," I said, "I could leave now and we'd make it by 5. But I have to go home, shower, and change."
"You can't do that. We don't have time. And I can't push it back further."
"But I have to shower. It's just unsanitary."
"You can shower there."
"No, I can't!" I'm not really on an I-can-show-up-at-your-house-totally-disguto-and-shower-in-your-master-suite basis with this couple.
"Sure. They won't mind."
"Hon, I can't do that."
"[sigh] . . . then you can't go. We can't really talk about this because we have to leave now or not even bother going."
"Fine. I'll do it, if you call and ask them if I can shower there."
"They're totally fine with it."
"Did you ask them."
"No, but they'll be totally fine with it."
"Okay. Can you ask them first before I show up there all sweaty looking to use their shower?"
"Okay. I'm coming to pick you up now."
So, after Shark Girl's first tournament, I apologized to Cousin, left him behind to finish his section alone, and went off to a pool party, where, it turns out, no one had been forewarned that I might urgently need a shower. And then I had to explain why I needed a shower. This all made for "fun" conversation and I, of course, got the first audience for my tournament videos.
I challenge you all to relate a more awkward work-party story than that!
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