My wife will get me after she reads this column, so I may have to move into one of your basements. Please send specifics of your rental space to the Republic-Times. I can’t afford much, but I am good at yard work.
Maybe we can make a deal.
But I’ve been thinking a lot about the magic powers of my fantastic wife, whose name is Michelle. Her grandmother used to call her “Micki,” so I thought it would be fun to include that nickname in the title of this column.
My wife is a magician. She has magic powers, I tell you. It’s taken me several years of living with her to see it. But it’s time for me to come out with the truth. It’s not nice to call ladies witches, but let’s just say she’s a good one.
She is Samantha, I am Darren.
First, there’s the disappearing. She can vanish into thin air. Numerous times, I will be speaking to her and turn around, only to find she has vanished. Sometimes, she shape-shifts and changes into our oldest daughter. One minute, I’m talking to my wife and I turn around and my daughter is there.
Then there are the times I go grocery shopping with her. Now, I love hanging out with my wife but I hate shopping in any form, so I always try to expedite things by offering to go fetch things. While she is perusing and price comparing, I can jet around with athletic prowess and get easy things like gallons of milk, bread and cheese.
However, usually right after I leave the aisle, she disappears. I’ve gotten so used to it that I try and thwart her plan by moving at a rapid pace. Surely she can’t disappear if I’m only gone for 45 seconds.
But she does. I picture her watching me out of the corner of her eye. As soon as I’ve rounded the corner, she snaps her fingers and disappears, teleporting herself across the store and winding up in another corner, far away from me. I end up walking the perimeter of the place to locate her.
Then there is her magic purse. Everything in the world is in there. Sometimes she carries two of them. Sometimes, she carries a small one inside a big one. It’s not a magician’s hat, and I’ve never seen her pull out a rabbit, but she can find just about any receipt from 1996 on.
She can produce cough drops, rubber bands, Kleenex (used or new), and any pair of my eyeglasses or sunglasses. It’s the incredible bottomless purse. You know that scene from “Mary Poppins” where she pulls that hat rack out of her purse? That’s Michelle’s purse. It’s amazing.
As in most houses with kids running around, our kitchen is the hub of the house and often the messiest room. There are times I’ve greeted her in the messy kitchen as she begins to clean up, only to come back a mere few minutes later to a sparkling and clean counter, empty sink, and swept-up floor. Nary a dirty dish in sight.
I’m telling you. She’s a witch.
Mark Tullis is a veteran teacher in the Columbia School District. Originally from Fairfield, he is married with four children and has been involved in various aspects of professional and community theater for many years. He has written a “slice of life” style column for this newspaper since 2007.