I stopped making New Year’s resolutions about five years ago after I broke resolutions number one and two (to lose weight and to finish writing my novel) 12 years in a row.
Now I prefer to put my efforts into compiling a list of New Year’s resolutions for my husband. Each year, he claims he can’t think of a single resolution he wants to make, so I feel it’s my wifely duty to help him out.
So far, the resolutions I’ve come up with for him for 2006 are as follows:
· When I have insomnia, I no longer will ask my wife to tell me about her day all over again, to help put me to sleep.
· At least once a week I will watch a TV movie that does not contain bloodshed, weapons of mass destruction, scantily clad women or car chases that involve crashing into fruit stands or sidewalk cafes.
· At least once a week I will watch a TV movie that contains love, romance, shopping, cute little children or puppies. And I will not roll my eyes and complain about getting a toothache from all of the “sweetness” while watching it.
· I will refrain from driving the 50-mile round trip to Pizza by George in Raymond every weekend to buy a 20-inch pizza and an 18-inch steak-and-cheese sub.
· And if I can’t refrain from buying the aforementioned 20-inch pizza and 18-inch sub, I will try not to moan about the stomachache I have or how I need a priest to administer the last rites, because I stuffed myself to the bursting point with 38 inches of food.
· I will learn that my red and black Mickey Mouse and Goofy necktie does not go with my tan checkered shirt. Also, that my “kiss my butt” tie tack that features a little silver man bending over and pointing to his rear end, which has the outline of a pair of red lips on it, is not appropriate for a business meeting.
· I will accept the fact that my wife is always late for everything so I no longer will nag her or try to rush her. I also will learn that when I do try to rush her, she inevitably will end up dropping things, ripping things, spilling things or poking her eye with the mascara brush and making us arrive even later.
· I will admit that arriving late for a movie and having to feel my way to my seat in total darkness and then accidentally sitting on someone’s lap is no reason to pop extra blood-pressure pills.
· I will try to refrain from spontaneously bursting into such songs as “I’m Just a Love Machine” when my wife is trying to concentrate on her e-mail.
· I no longer will whine for every new tool and gadget advertised on TV…even though I still really could use The Clapper because when I’m stretched out in my recliner and I want to read, I hate having to exert myself by sitting up to turn on the lamp behind me.
· I will stop getting upset every time my lottery ticket isn’t a winner, even though my dream of traveling all over the country in a private jet and sampling cheeseburgers from coast to coast still has not come true…and my gallbladder may not be able to handle it if I have to wait much longer.
· I will consider taking my slacks or jeans to a seamstress and having them hemmed when the legs are dragging on the ground…instead of compensating by pulling the waistband up to just below my nipples and wearing it that way.
· I will not beg my wife to make orange Jell-O for me unless I fully intend to eat it before it turns into a shriveled-up ball.
· I no longer will watch TV shows based solely on how attractive the lead female character is rather than on the plot.
· I will throw out all of my socks that no longer have toes or heels in them. Ditto for my underwear that looks as if it got caught in the crossfire during Bonnie and Clyde’s shootout.
· I no longer will wait until my wife’s on the phone to ask her a dozen questions about such things as where my toenail clippers are or on what channel the Xena, Warrior Princess, reruns are.
· And last, but not least, I promise that I will hire a housekeeper to do all of the housework for my wife…and that the housekeeper will look like Aunt Bea on the Andy Griffith Show, not be imported from Sweden and wearing a skimpy maid’s outfit.