10 signs that your marriage might not survive the next snowstorm
10. You decide that it’s time to test his love, by giving him an assignment he’s sure to fail: find a babysitter for Thursday at 6:00.
9. You are disappointed, when with five minutes to spare, he succeeds, flying off into the snow, with the children flapping behind him.
8. You can’t help but feel smug when, in his hurry to prove you wrong, he parks the car in an unyielding bed of ice. The Mazda is the only thing of any value you own, with the exception of the iPods, which didn’t cost nearly as much, but are treasured just the same.
7. The next morning, the car still can’t be budged.
6. Before noon, it is hit by a UPS truck in a crash so dramatic as to incite passers-by to redefine themselves as “witnesses.” “I saw what happened!” says the note you find tucked into the driver’s window. It’s written in all caps.
5. You’d like to share this detail with your husband, but at the sight of the car detached from its bumper, he is overcome with a desire to walk in the other direction.
4. The rest of the neighbourhood men quickly gather in his place to give you conflicting advice on your new situation. You’ve never had a moment of car trouble where this has not happened. You wish they’d go away so that you can do what you’d really like, which is cry. Instead, you stoically put the car into neutral and then into drive, you gun it and you go gentle — to no avail. It’s as stuck as it was the night before, when it had a passenger rear-view mirror and a smooth, untroubled right profile.
3. It is a week before you or your husband is able to address the issue of your broken car in any meaningful way.
2. You are disappointed when his understanding of meaningful turns out to involve lots and lots of duct tape.
1. To get back at him — for what, you’re not sure, lack of technical aptitude? too high of a tolerance for imperfection? — you steal his iPod, knowing full well that this will cause him confusion and worry. You have it with you in the car the day it finally comes home, two-thousand insurance dollars later, shiny and rejuvenated, from Claremont Chevrolet. You play only one song, in repeat: “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” It’s the only song on his playlist that you recognize from your own. It’s the only overlap between the two of you right now.
(my review of Ibi Kaslik's The Angel Riots here)