Why War

Both The Wife and I have been on leave for the last 12 weeks.  I think the best way to describe my time here is that it has been historically significant.

Not in terms of my relationship with my wife.

Or my child.

Or even my comic.

I mean it literally; these past 90 days have made me understand a lot more about history.

My house from a helicopter.

I never understood why people way back when had war after war about nothing.  Some king said something about some other king and therefore the entire kingdom went to war.  Even in something like the Civil War, I never understood why so many people had to die for something that they all had to know would eventually happen anyway (it’s like gay marriage.  We all know it will eventually happen, so why fight it?).  After living alone in the middle of nowhere for three months, I think I understand it.

See, when you’re out here with no one except the family, certain things have a way of amplifying.  My life was no longer what I do at work, or Tiny Life, or home improvement; my life was The Wife rinsing out the goddam baby bottles.

When The Wife and I were simply co-hebetating in sin, she would always get on my case about rinsing out my soda cans when I was done with them.  I guess she grew up in a house with a lot of ants (or went camping a lot.  I dunno.  I don’t really pay that much attention) and one of the main culprits of leading the ants to the kitchen was a used pop can with a little backwash in it.  Apparently, ants can smell sugar from far away and – like weirdos at a comic convention, take over the place.  Or at least become a noticeable nuisance.

So, given that history, one would think that she would always rinse out everything she drank out of; one would think, given the history, The Wife would have some sort of convenient paranoid disorder about always having a clean kitchen.  Not so.  She gives the child a bottle of milk and then, whether the bottle is empty or not, leaves it on the counter – right next to the sink! – for days at a time.   Only when it smells or turns a color other than s shade of white does she wash it.

Given that it’s simply milk, the bottle is easily rinsable, but only while the milk is still mixed and liquid.  After a few minutes it becomes gelatinous and eventually solid.  At this point, you’d have to soak it for a long time in order to get it clean and to make sure all the salmonella (or whatever) is gone.

We went round and round on this point.  We had endless arguments with crying baby intermissions.  At a certain point we both became disturbingly angry.

And that’s how I understand history.  For most of our species’ history, we’ve been isolated in little tribes.  Little things build up.  The Wife was willing to kill me if I told her the benefits of rinsing out the baby bottle before the milk turned to cheese.  The Trojan War was over some skank.  The Hundred Years War was about how long a century is.  WWI was about some Kaiser sandwich.

I get it now.


One Response

  1. nah

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