Mr Wonderful to the (Beauty) Rescue!

I’ve mentioned my husband a few times in previous posts….

I lovingly refer to him as “Mr Wonderful.”  And, while some of you may have assumed a little tongue-in-cheek sarcasm, there is none.  Because Mr Wonderful is actually pretty wonderful.  He is my most favorite person in the whole world.  And, every single day, I am grateful that I am his favorite person, too.

Our married life has been happy.  Though some could never fathom it, we spend nearly every minute together ~ working, playing and sometimes doing absolutely nothing ~ side by side.

There are many daily acts of kindness:  a hot cup of coffee delivered to my writing spot out on the deck, a surprise batch of fresh spinach balls waiting when he returns from walking the pups, spontaneous “somebody needs a tickle party” parties, silly e-mails sent from just across the room and plenty of heartwarming hugs.

We truly enjoy pleasing each other; and neither of us can abide seeing the other one hurt, troubled or even just mildly inconvenienced.

We are “Team Allen” all the time.  And it’s nice.  Because life is so much better when you surround yourself with people who like you and want you to be happy.

A couple of weeks ago, as I was going through my morning “shower and shine” routine, Mr Wonderful heard me cry out ~ a short squeal followed by a decidedly forlorn “nooooooo!”

Hurrying from his home office, he found me wrapped in a robe and crouched beside the bathroom vanity, attempting to retrieve a jar of premium eye cream from behind the toilet.

There was significant salve spatter across half of the mirror and most of the wall, clearly defining the trajectory of the unguent missile.  Looking back over my shoulder, I could see it was almost the entire containers’ worth of moisturizing gold.  The jar, which took some serious contortions and a bonafide “lunge” to reclaim, confirmed it.

Fifty-five dollars worth of my precious eye cream was gone.  Gone.  And it wasn’t the first time.  In the past three months, there had been as many accidents with my “pretty potions” ~ and at a significant net loss.

Gently taking my arm and helping me up, Mr Wonderful pulled me in for a consoling hug.  He knew I was frustrated.  And he knew why:  It wasn’t the unwelcome expense or the inconvenience of replacement so much as the issue of slightly less nimble fingers.  I’d handled similar jars for years without issue….

I won’t say I am opposed to aging.  I still prefer it over, say, death.  But as I stretch my way to 50 (and, gee, it’s not nearly as much of a stretch as it used to be), changes and challenges are more and more difficult to ignore ~ and accept.

Mr Wonderful, seeing tears in my eyes, fully understood the implications of this third incident.  And he was determined that I would not find myself feeling this way again.

His solution?  One bonus hug and two rubber bands.

Mr Wonderful placed two wide elastics around my eye cream container.  He spaced them out to create a ridged surface, and to ensure traction regardless of slippery solvents.  And, knowing his wife very well, he managed to find two pinkish bands for esthetics’ sake.

My hero!

A success, we’ve added rubber bands to all my harder-to-hold vessels.  It has been a half a month; and I have not bobbled one bottle, one jar or one container.  I feel like a new woman.  And, now that I have all my “pretty potions” under control, I look like one, too.

Thank you, Mr Wonderful.

Note:  It’s entirely possible a psychiatrist might label our relationship “codependent.”  Fine with us.  Whatever this is, it’s been working beautifully for a quarter of a century.  And we’re looking forward to the next 25 years.