For the millionth time, nothing
03/28/2003
Strauss Home / Humor Channel / Bullz-Eye Home
There I am, driving through the countryside. It's a beautiful, glorious summer day. The wind is blowing back my hair.
Or, it's the dead of winter and the heat is blasting on my pale, balding melon. Whatever.
As I sit in silence listening to England Dan and John Ford Coley telling me they'd really love to see me tonight, I hear it. From across the car.
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Really?
ME:
Yeah, really.
WIFE:
No, really? Nothing?
ME:
Really. Nothing.
WIFE:
Really? Nothing? Really?
Or perhaps I'm sitting home, relaxing, smoking my pipe, reading the Saturday Evening Post as a fire warmly crackles in the background.
Or my daughter just peed on the carpet and two kids from the high school band are at the front door asking for 10 bucks to sponsor their trip to Sheboygan for Jamfest '03. Whatever.
In the middle of it all, I hear it. From across the room.
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Really?
ME:
Yeah, really.
WIFE:
Really?
ME:
Really.
WIFE:
Not a thing?
ME:
Well, I suppose that's no longer true.
WIFE:
I knew it. So what are you thinking about?
ME:
Death. I'm thinking about a painful, agonizing, tortured-filled death.
WIFE:
Suddenly, I don't believe I have any more questions.
Why?
Why is this such a difficult concept to grasp?
Why is it no matter how many times my wife asks the question…
What are you thinking about?
…and no matter how many times I answer…
Oh, nothing.
…it never seems to be good enough?
Why is it that my "nothing" doesn't mean anything to her?
Why is it that my nothing…is nothing?
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
No seriously. Everybody is thinking about something. So what are you thinking about?
ME:
No seriously. Nothing.
WIFE:
Please tell me.
ME:
Okay, I'll tell you.
WIFE:
Good. What are you thinking about?
ME:
Nothing.
Why?
Why can't my "nothing" ever be taken at face value?
For 16 consecutive years, it's yet to sink in that when I say I'm thinking about nothing…I'm really thinking about nothing.
And while there's clearly something wrong with her because she's spent 16 consecutive years with me, this is not a dumb woman.
So then, why? Why doesn't she get this?
Does she think I'm lying and I just don't want to tell her?
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
You're an ass. You're thinking I've gained weight, haven't you?
ME:
No, not really.
WIFE:
Don't lie to me. I know that's what you're thinking.
ME:
No, not really.
WIFE:
Yes you are. I know you are.
ME:
Fine, I admit it. Yes, I've begun to notice a large protrusion emanating from the back of your jeans. But I just didn't want to say anything. So now I have.
WIFE (SOBBING):
Why would you hurt me so much? How could you say such a thing? How could you think such a thing?
ME:
Honey, I have to be honest with you. I really wasn't thinking that. I just said it to stop you from asking me what I was thinking. Because the truth is, I wasn't thinking about anything. But I knew if I didn't say something, you would've kept asking. So I finally just made something up about what I was thinking so you'd stop asking me what I was thinking.
WIFE:
Really?
ME:
Really.
WIFE:
So you weren't thinking I'm fat?
ME:
No, I wasn't thinking you're fat.
WIFE:
Good.
ME:
Do you feel better now?
WIFE:
Yes.
ME:
Good.
WIFE:
So then, what were you thinking?
ME:
Do we own any firearms?
Does she think I've forgotten, and I was really was thinking about something?
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Really?
ME:
Jeez, thank God you asked me again! Because now that you mentioned it, I was thinking about what the fastest land mammal is, what the square root of pi is to the 1/1,000,000th, and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop.
WIFE:
The cheetah. 3.142857. And according to the owl, three.
ME:
Thanks. Now I don't have to think about those things anymore.
Does she think I'm so deep in my thought process that what I'm thinking about just isn't worth explaining?
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Really?
ME:
Actually, I'm thinking about the molecular structure of a combustible ion and how it relates to the metaphysical productivity of a proton-enriched substrate.
WIFE:
You're kidding.
ME:
Yes, actually I am, you pain in the ass.
Does she think this is some kind of foreplay?
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Really? Come on. You have to be thinking about something.
ME:
Okay, I am.
WIFE:
What?
ME:
Nothing.
WIFE:
Nothing isn't something.
ME:
Everything is something. Even nothing is something, even though it's nothing.
WIFE:
So you're saying that while you're thinking about nothing, you're really thinking about something, because something is nothing?
ME:
Yes, exactly. Would you like to have sex now?
WIFE:
No.
Nothing else I say is treated with such disbelief and dismissal.
When I say "I'm going to work," she says, "Okay. Have a good day."
When I say, "I'm taking out the garbage," she says, "Okay. Thanks."
When I say, "Brent wants to take me to a strip club," she says, "Okay." Then I say, "Really?" Then she says, "Not really. Take out the garbage or go to work."
Why doesn't this register with her?
Why doesn't she understand that when I tell her I'm not thinking about anything, I'm not thinking about anything?
And if I was thinking about something I wanted to talk to her about, I'd tell her.
The thing is, I'm just not sure she wants to have another conversation about how Kid Rock got Pamela Anderson.
You would think after the third of 18,000 times asking the exact same question, something in her brain would enable her to realize that yes, she's going to get the exact same answer today she got when she asked the question on November 11, 1987.
And trust me. Wherever we were on November 11, 1987, she asked.
Yesterday:
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Why won't you ever tell me what you're thinking?
November 11, 1987
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Why won't you ever tell me what you're thinking? Oh, look. You've got a stain on your parachute pants.
Is this a woman thing? Are they all like this? Or was I just the lucky lottery winner?
Is it my fault my wife has to think about something every second of every minute of every hour of every day?
Is this a woman thing and they all do this?
My wife? My wife can analyze, scrutinize and dramatize everything and anything on earth, inclusive of and not limited to:
*Us.
*The color of our dining room walls.
*What so-and-so said about whatsherface.
*And did I mention us?
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, nothing.
WIFE:
Interesting. So why do you think you're not thinking about anything?
ME:
Are you asking me to think about why I'm not thinking about anything?
WIFE:
Why are you so defensive about this? Yes, I think we need talk about it.
ME:
Is strangulation legal in this state?
Me?
Like most lower life forms, my underdeveloped brain is utilized in only limited circumstances.
I man.
I no think. Me act.
Yes, I have the instincts of a mountain lion. The guile of a fox. The motivation of a three-toed sloth.
So what makes her think just because she thinks, I think?
I mean, I don't menstruate. I don't care about what shoes go with what skirt. And I don't think Brad Pitt is cute.
I think George Clooney is way cuter.
So what makes her think just because she thinks, I do?
Truthfully, I'm convinced she doesn't really care what I'm thinking, anyway.
I think she does it because she's finished talking about what she was thinking about. And so she wants to talk about what I'm thinking about, so she'll have something to talk about.
Because there's only one thing my wife is better at than thinking. And that's talking.
My wife is the only person I know who has unlimited minutes on her cell phone. And she goes over.
My wife is a first team all-American Talker. My wife thinks and talks like there's no tomorrow.
And if there were no tomorrow, she'd want to talk about that, too.
Only after she thought about it, though.
Me? I don't really think or talk unless I'm forced to.
ME, THINKING
CLERK:
Would you like fries with your triple cheeseburger?
ME:
Um, yes.
ME, TALKING
RABBI:
Do you take this woman to be your wife?
SILENCE.
RABBI:
Well?
ME:
I'm thinking, I'm thinking.
Me? I find silence remarkably quiet.
Which makes me one of two adults in our home feeling that way.
I don't know.
Maybe I'm going at this all wrong.
Maybe I should start to think about things so I don't have to talk about why I'm not thinking about things. Maybe I should start to think about things so I don't have to talk about the things she's thinking.
Maybe that will work. Maybe that will be my ticket out of my personal nothing hell.
WIFE:
What are you thinking about?
ME:
Oh, a few things actually.
WIFE:
Really? Like what?
ME:
Well, I've been thinking about our relationship.
WIFE:
What about it?
ME:
I've been thinking we need to have sex more. A lot more.
WIFE:
No. What else have you been thinking about?
ME:
I've been thinking about the dining room.
WIFE:
What about it?
ME:
I've been thinking that the walls don't need to be painted, like you think they need to be.
WIFE:
You're wrong. They do need to be painted. What else have you been thinking about?
ME:
I've been thinking about that thing protruding from the back of your jeans.
WIFE:
What did you say?
ME:
I mean, oh, nothing.
Then again, maybe not.
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