Okay, I know that I’ve said over and over that Fancy Husbands work every hour, every minute, every second of every day. That is true. Did you know that there is Blackberry reception on the most remote piece of inhabited land on the planet? Yes, that is also true. I have firsthand knowledge, from my Fancy Honeymoon. Anyway, occasionally H does get a little down time. And what he does with it usually involves one of the 6 computers in our Fancy home. He gets into a prone position and stays there for as long as possible, moving only his fingers, surfing from one end of the Internet to the other.
There are many reasons why I find this highly annoying, not the least of which is that he is usually on my computer (Why?! When there are 5 others?!). Another obviously being that I am usually left stranded, mid-sentence, sitting at the dinner table, once again playing second fiddle to his true love.
Turns out there is another reason that H’s computer obsession is truly, deeply, irritating. One I hadn’t really thought of until it happened this week. I’m used to having search windows automatically pop up with porn sites or financial newspapers (both of which dominate his surf time.) But what I found truly annoying this week was a very friendly email from Amazon.co.uk.
“Hello, Fancy! Here’s some deals on items you’ve been looking at on Amazon.co.uk! Check out this week’s offers on cat beds!”
Huh? We don’t have a cat. Or a dog. Or a racehorse. Or a stuffed peacock. No animals live at the Fancy House. Once I asked H if I could get a little doggie to keep me company. (This was in the throes of my infertility depression). He stared at me and said, “Get a little dog. Do whatever you want. But don’t be surprised if one day your pup winds up in a burrito. I could get hungry.”
Do you get that we’re not really “animal lovers” in any sense other than “carnivore?” Not that we go around hitting puppies, but neither of us is really interested in hiring yet another person to care for yet another individual who isn’t toilet trained. Or in finding a kennel when we go on holiday. Or on having pet hair on our Fancy Furniture.
So why, then I ask, why is my Inbox being polluted with helpful suggestions on scratch trees and poodle pillows? I asked H and he just looked at me.
“One thing always leads to another and then I found myself looking at pet beds,” he said matter-of-factly. Oh, of course. That makes perfect sense.