Feb 24 2006
He’s an optimist…. who knew?
Most people who know my husband and I would easily classify me as an optimist and Bill as a pessimist.
After all, I’m all rainbows and sunshine! I’m happy and smiley! I’m a fucking day in the fucking park! I am very trusting - here, want my pin number? Want to watch my kid for the weekend? Want to borrow my new car? Sure… go ahead! I’m so optimistic, I eat yogurt up to a week past the expiration date! I’m so optimistic, I procrastinate on everything until the last freaking minute.
And him? He’s a curmudgeon. He’s cynical and cranky. He trusts NO ONE (even I have to be fingerprinted and have a retinal scan before I can use his fancy big computer). He growls. The man actually GROWLS — a trait that all three of his daughters have learned to mimic. I swear to fucking god, sometimes I feel like I live in a den of bears. But the berries are good and I get to sleep all winter so I don’t complain too much (because… wait for it …. I’M AN OPTIMIST!)
Generally, I would agree that my husband is a glass-half-empty sort of guy.
But — put him behind the wheel of a 2-ton motor vehicle and suddenly - OPTIMIST!
