A Bit About Expectations

So today’s writing is going to be about revisiting topics and changing our expectations.

I can hear you saying “I thought she promised us a funny story about almost punching herself in the face!”

I did. And, I plan to deliver.

But you know me. I gotta take the long way ‘round and work in a moral or two.

We’re gonna go back to the end of 2017. For those of you who don’t know, Ron is my second husband, and we had two wedding ceremonies. The first was on New Year’s Eve in 2017. It was a lighthearted fun-filled steampunk themed ceremony and we wrote out own vows. (A more serious ceremony happened later in Pennsylvania.)

Folks, these were some interesting vows!

I promised to always share my french fries.

Ron promised to share his chocolate.

There was a mention of the TARDIS from Doctor Who.

Spiders made an appearance.

The part we’re concerned with today, though, is a vow I made to forsake air conditioning in favor of open windows. Ron is one of those people who gets chilly when the temp is below 75 degrees Fahrenheit. Really. Chilly. We’re talking purple fingertips.

My boys have joked Ron would be perfectly happy laying in the driveway on a hot sunny day. I tend to agree. The hotter, the better for him. He likes to work outside on 90+ days.

So, it’s safe to say he’s a heat freak.

For myself, I like fresh air. I love to toss the windows open and let breezes freshen up the house. Which is why I thought it would be fun and cute to throw in that particular wedding vow.

It went over well. Most of the attendees to our first wedding ceremony were close friends of Ron and knew he loved warmth.

By the way, keep in mind, this ceremony was New Year’s Eve. In Wisconsin. On a day so cold, we had to light fires in the fireplaces to supplement the normal heating. Easy vows to write and make in that kind of weather.

Fast forward a few months to August 2018.

Picture this:

It’s 98 degrees outside, with a heat index well above that temp. And inside, no air conditioning. You see, I was trying to stick to that promise, even though those particular vows were made rather tongue-in-cheek. I do care about Ron and I don’t want him to freeze.

But the thing is, like I said, it was 98 degrees outside. And I had to take a shower, in an interior bathroom with no window. And no A/C. To make matter worse, I was on my period. Which, ladies, as you well know, can vastly complicate hopping out of a shower. You have to do that dash to grab your “period gear” before you make a mess everywhere.

So there I am, doing my quick grab of my panties, and I can’t get the darn things up. I’d attempted to dry off but it was so crazy hot I was staying damp, no matter what. At this point, I’m having to bend down and inch these silly panties up my legs. Had to do the same with my shorts. All of which was a workout and made me even more sweaty. It was so bad, I opened the bathroom door and was flapping it back and forth to fan myself off.

Then, it was time to tackle...The Bra.

Ladies, you know. Bras and hot days...not a good mix. And you can’t always just skip it. To further complicate matters, I’ve got curves. No delicate pink bits of lace and fluff for me. My bra is more of the lunch lady variety. I need a minimum of four hooks just to keep things reigned in. I have to wrap my bra around my waist, fasten the hooks, slide it around so the hooks are in back and then wiggle it up to the proper position, and finally put my arms through the straps. It’s a whole process.

Let me tell you, that process falls all to hell when the sweat is rolling off of you.

Getting it hooked wasn’t a problem. I kept it down past the top of my shorts for that part. It lulled me into a false sense of security, though. I was thinking, “Oh, easy peasy!” I grabbed the whole thing and gave it a good tug round and up. I swear, it screeched to a halt! Well, not a literal screech, but that was sure what it felt like. The second it touched my damp skin it stopped moving. There was no inch by inch-ing it, either. It was more like centimeter by centimeter. (Just to help you picture this in your mind, I also have long hair, which was hanging down in my face in wet strands, hindering my view of what was going on.)

There I was, working this dang bra around bit by bit, and getting good and mad. Mad about the heat in Wisconsin. I mean, it’s Wisconsin after all. It’s known for being COLD, not hot. What the heck is up with 98 degree weather?!! And why did I make a vow for no air-conditioning?!! A/C would fix all of this! The house would be nice and cool! Ron could wear gloves if he was that cold.

I’m grumbling and growling and I finally get the bra around where I want it and I go to pull the cups up where I need them, and amazingly, they pop right into place.

Again, a false sense of security!

Thinking I’ve got this bra conquered, and with a bit of what I call hulk-smash energy (from all that growling), I try to grab the strap to pull it up over my shoulder.

Well…..it was all twisted and rolled up. I was so mad I hadn’t noticed. So when I tugged, it refused to move. My hand popped off of it and I felt the WHOOSH as my own fist flew by my nose!

Oh, how that set me off!!!!!

I fought the rest of my way into that bra. Managed to get my hair all tangled into my shirt, yanking at it, all the while I’m cussing and slamming things around.

Looking back on it, I can’t remember where Ron was at the time. He wasn’t home, that’s all I know. You can bet, I was laying in wait for him. ‘Cause you see, I was ready to blame him for all of this, even though I was the one who came up with the vow. And I was the one who wouldn’t ask him if we could turn on the air conditioner. Most importantly, I was forgetting he’s a reasonable person.

He’d no sooner set foot in the door than I lambasted him with my bathroom tale, all the while expecting a fight over it. Instead, Ron (in his unflappable way) said “of course, we can turn the air on when it’s this hot”.

Well.

Hm.

I’d worked this thing up into a much bigger deal than it actually way. All I had to do was ask….not even that, I guess. All I had to do was mention the problem.

Since then, we’ve worked on sorting out what I like to think of as our “temperature sweet spot”. Turns out 79-80 degrees works best for us. It’s not too hot for me and not too cold for Ron. It took a little bit of thermostat adjusting to come up with that range, though. I’d learned my lesson and throughout the adjustments, I simply mentioned what I’d like, Ron did the same, and we found our best temperature.

Remember what I said about revisiting topics and changing expectations?

I was holding myself to much higher expectations than Ron on those wedding vows. He was (and is) always willing to discuss things, while I’m more prone to holding myself to certain ideals. The problem arises when one is holding oneself to such lofty ideals that we buckle under. We have to remember most of the time there is wiggle room. We just need to check in with each other once in a while, especially when circumstances change.

And that’s my lesson for today.

Oh, and remember putting on a bra can be dangerous in hot climates!