How garage doors result in the downfall of marriage

My family spent Spring Break in Utah. The children and I flew out several days before my husband who later joined us to ski Park City Mountain Resort.

Jamie is good at many things: growing giant pumpkins. Calming me down when I set the oven on fire.

Remembering to feed the cat is not one of them.

My children and I spent 10 days in Canada last winter, during which time our new cat Remy a.k.a. “Fat Kitty” was put on a forced diet due to Jamie’s negligence.

Call me crazy but “Skinny Kitty” just doesn’t have the same ring.

This time around, Jamie’s one responsibility was to take our garage remote control over to our neighbor Jean’s (we don’t do keys at our house) so she could let herself in to feed the cat. I’ll admit it: I was paranoid he’d forget. Our neighbor is in the middle of tax season so I forewarned him not to leave it until the last minute because she’s difficult to catch at home.

There may have been nagging loving reminders involved.

I’m not sure what happened next. Jamie had two garage remote controls at his disposal. He took one to Jean’s. With one to spare, he still somehow managed to lock himself out of the house for several hours until Jean came home.

Even though I was hundreds of miles away, I got blamed.

This is not unlike an unfortunate incident that occurred at my brother Pat’s house. He and his wife Jane were going to Costco to refill their large water jugs. At the last minute, Jane asked her daughter and two grandchildren to come, a process that added an extra 15 minutes to the process.

Like me, patience is not a virtue for my brother. He paced around the house before declaring he was going to put the containers in the car. He popped the trunk, loaded two jugs and waited for Jane to come with the third.

More time passed. Impatience grew. Exasperated, he backed out of the garage to get a head start. This would have been a sound strategy.

Except he forgot he had left the trunk open.

It did not survive.

Upon hearing the loud crash, Jane raced out to the garage to find my brother’s shaved, beet-red head bulging with fury.

“YOU IDIOTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he sputtered.
“We’re idiots? Why is this our fault?” Jane and her daughter were on the floor laughing.

And so the pattern continues. Wife absent. Husband screws up. Wife still gets blamed.

So, let’s hear it. Have you ever been used as your significant other’s scapegoat?

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