The School of the Gifted

Dr. SOB is brilliant. He will tell you differently, but those of you who know him know he is a freaking genius. All great minds are limited in some way however, and sometimes dear Dr. lacks commons sense in such a way that it boggles the mind. Here are just two examples from the last 24 hours.

We recently put a lock on our bedroom door to keep the cats out. We have two, and one of them is hell bent on suffocating me. Because our building is so old, most of the door latches have been painted over to the point where the doors either don’t latch at all or are very inconsistent. The cats have discovered that if they throw all of their body weight against our bedroom door, they can open it and try to kill me. So last night we went to bed, but Dr. couldn’t sleep. He got up and went to the living room to read for awhile. About an hour and a half later, I am soundly snoozing when the phone, which is right next to my head, starts going crazy. I ignored it because a) I was sleeping and b) Dr. was up, he can get it. Well, it continued to ring for several minutes, and so I finally sat up, took out my right ear plug, and answered then damn phone. It was Dr. asking me to let him in the bedroom because he locked himself out. First of all, the lock is on the inside of the room, so there is no possible way for him to lock it once he’s left the room. The door had actually latched this time, but he was trying to just push the door open. If he had tried turning the knob, this predicament, and me having to get out of bed, could have been avoided.

Which leads us to this morning. Every day I pack a lunch of some sort for myself. Lately because of the summertime, I’ve been having blueberries in my lunch. At the beginning of the week, I take the carton and portion out the berries into individual bags for ease later. I actually weigh the berries, because I have been a faithful Weight Watchers devotee for two years now, so I know exactly how many ounces of blueberries are in each bag. This morning, my bag of blueberries was nearly half empty. So I asked the good Dr. if he ate any of my berries. I know he doesn’t like blueberries, so naturally he replied ‘No.’ For 45 minutes I pondered the whereabouts of approximately 1.5 ounces of blueberries. Did they somehow enter the 4th dimension? Did we have a berry burglar? As I was walking out the door, however, Dr. SOB said ‘Oh, by the way, I spilled about half of your blueberries last night and had to put them down the garbage disposal.’ I know, technically, I asked him if he had eaten the berries, and technically his answer was correct. Most folks, however, might have had the sense of mind to mention any berry mishaps that may have occurred while we were having the initial fucking berry conversation!

God, I love this man!