I’d like to think I’m a good wife. I mean, I cook, I clean, I laugh, I joke, I … erhm, do other stuff.
And I support my husband.
Even when he goes and does something crazy like buy a set of big-honkin’ lights like these puppies:
I can’t tell you how many times Kevin has apologized for buying these lights.
And I wish he wouldn’t.
Yes. They were expensive. Yes. He sold his dirt bike in order to pay for them. Yes. Our bills are caught up. Yes. We have food to eat.
Besides, it was his money, his bike and this kind of thing? Makes him happy.
And if he’s happy, believe me, I’m happy.
I know what you’re thinking.
“But Karen. You’re a team. You’re partners. It’s not really his money, it’s your money, together.”
And yes, you would be correct. And Kevin certainly ran this purchase by me before he actually went ahead and went through with it. (Not like the time I came home from work only to find a HUGE canoe hanging from the garage ceiling. Oh yes, yes he did. I’ll never let you live THAT one down, honey. In fact …
Oh look! We still have it).
But here’s the thing. Kevin works really, really hard for his money. And he takes excellent care of us. He always puts our needs first, period. So when the man really wants something, and we can afford it, I’m not going to stand in his way.
He deserves to pamper himself.
At times. Let’s not get carried away here. 😀
But seriously. He never says a word when I get a package from Amazon and add yet more books to my 300 plus pile (which are now for sale in my Amazon book store, by the way).
He never says a word whenever I go out and spend $70 bucks to get my hair colored and cut. (Yes. Seventy. And that’s cheap! At least, according to some of you!)
He never says a word whenever I buy … well, come to think of it, I don’t buy a whole lot, actually. But you get my drift.
These lights? Make him happy. And he’s excited to use them the next time he plays with his band – Midnite Thunder. Music makes him happy. It relaxes him. It energizes him. It charges up his batteries because let’s face it, accounting is BORING. (Well, I’m assuming. It sounds boring. It looks boring. Actually, it looks like a foreign language to me, but we all know I’m an idiot so …)
I have supported him through numerous guitars. And various guitar accessories. I have physically supported him by being there when he plays and by being one of his groupies.
(Did I tell you guys about the time I coaxed him out on the dance floor with me, while he was playing?? His guitar was hooked up wirelessly and I couldn’t believe he actually got out on the dance floor and boogied down with me while playing. That was so fun).
I have even supported him through this crazy, expensive light fetish thing that he has going on right now. (Seriously. Did you COUNT how many lights there were? Eight. And they’re huge. As in blinding huge. And this is in addition to the two sets of lights he recently bought.
The man clearly has a fetish).
All this to say, I honestly don’t mind and though I love to tease him, the man deserves to buy his lights if he wants to.
Of course now, he owes me, but I won’t bring that up now. *grin*
My name is Karen.
And I’m married to a musician.
Who likes lights.
And I’m okay with that.
Because I love him.
And I support him.
(As long as it doesn’t get too crazy. Like wanting a Corvette or … wait. What? You want a Corvette when you get another job?
Welllllll, I suppose that’s better than wanting trade me in for a younger woman. Don’t say it. Don’t even say it).