(I bet that title made you stop scrolling!)

It has come to my attention that my recent blogs have been “sad” and “very morose.” Not my intention, but it is what it is. I am sad. I am missing a very large piece of my soul, and frankly, you should be concerned only if I ever stop saying that, stop blogging, or if you don’t hear from me.

Pasta on the Floor is how I deal with grief and life in general. I write about it. I get it out, and I value every single emoji or comment that you all leave for me and my family. That being said, I realized something: even in his absence, I still do things to get under his skin, and honestly, it brings me a little joy. Here goes:

Top 8 Things I Say Out Loud or Do to Annoy My Dead Husband

#8 Bedtime temperature.  We knew we were destined to be together and moved into our first apartment after six months. It was easy, romantic, and fun, in our little place on Main Street in Saugerties, New York, above the quaint stores.  Third-floor walk-up. Stifling heat. That was fine with me, not so much for Chip. He needed A/C, a fan, and breathable boxers. I needed his warmth and some comfy PJs. Menopause changed all this. Now I need a ceiling fan with a remote to crank up that breeze. Funny thing is, I miss his heat. Tillie is a decent substitute, but I do giggle when I change from hot to cold ten times a night.

#7 Spiders. I really hate spiders, no, really.  I have zero self-control. I am quick to splat them with my shoe on the floor, ceiling, or walls. If I tried to deny it, Chip always knew because the poor spiders’ remains appeared on the walls. Now, every time I kill one and leave a mark, I look up, and I smile. There is nothing he can do about it!

#6 Balancing the checkbook. I don’t. Never did. When we first combined our accounts, Chip saw a note in the ledger that read: “Called Customer Service,” with a balance written next to it. I told him I didn’t know what the balance was, so I called to get it and then just kept writing checks from there. He tried very hard not to be angry with my simple and challenged financial mind. Let’s put it this way: I never had the checkbook again.  I am still awful with it, but thank God for bookkeepers and accountants.

#5 Toothpaste.  Love was never the issue; I knew he loved me so much. But some things I did probably generated homicidal thoughts in his mind. I am a squeeze-the-tube-from-anywhere gal. Chip? He squeezed the tube from the bottom, tightly rolled, with not a drop of waste. Simple solution: 2 tubes of toothpaste back then; one sloppy tube of toothpaste now.

#4 Time.  My father was militant about being on time. So am I. Chip, not so much. So I set all the clocks in the house 20 minutes fast and the watches 5 minutes fast.  It made him crazy. So now I wear his watch, and it is 5 minutes fast.

#3 Gas in the car.  Chip would drive with the gas light on.  When we had Saabs, the gas gauge did not say “E”; it said “R” for reserve, which, to him, gave him permission to continue driving until he called me when he ran out of gas. Not me! I always filled up at half a tank, and I still do, giving him a little wink from the pump.

#2 Singing.  I cannot sing, but I can lip-sync with the best of them. Chip’s family was very musical, so I had to fake it quite a bit. Now? I sing at the top of my lungs, with abandon, out of key, no shame, and making the neighborhood dogs cry and howl.

#1 “Porn Star Feet.” And finally, the funniest, which needs a little explanation. I never asked him how he knew people in those movies had dirty feet; I don’t want to know. (Must be from his frat boy days. Don’t tell his secrets, Pitts!) It drove him crazy that the bottoms of my feet were slightly ‘weathered’ in the summer from walking barefoot in and out of the house. He couldn’t handle it. So I annoy him by still going barefoot with abandon. Tillie and I keep our toes in the grass and clean them up before bed!

The People We Love Are Never Really Gone (So Why Not Have a Little Fun?)

I don’t believe in the signs: cardinals, feathers, or finding a random dime. But I do believe in a Godwink– a moment that feels like a coincidental event, or a nudge of divine intervention.

Every once in a while, our wedding song, “The Dream”, by David Sanborn, plays on a random Sirius XM jazz channel, and I stop. I listen, and  I smile.  My heart still hurts. Most days, I am not even sure how to live this life without him. But I cling to the idea that love does not disappear. It shifts and shows up differently.  And maybe, just maybe, it shows up in these small, ridiculous ways. In a song, or in a dream, or when I put ice in my beer to keep it warm on a hot afternoon; still finding ways to annoy him.

And I think Chip is getting a kick out of that.

PS, if you have read this far and feel like sharing, I’d love to hear what you do to push your person’s buttons. Do tell.

PPS Go New York Knicks!

K.