What Didgeridoo Boy does...

In my heart, I know Didgeridoo Boy loves me and is essentially a good person. Really. When we're in public, though, there are times when I know just as deeply that he lives to watch me go from being cute and somewhat serious to embodying the epitome of a hellish, screaming shrew. And he doesn't really *do* anything to get me to that place - - but he does. How the hell am I to explain this?

Okay. Here's an example: Let's say he and I are at the drugstore. I ask him where something is, let's say Carmex, as I manage to catch him mid zippy-pass. (Didge is prone to roaming.) He says, "I don't know." But there is something in the way he says it, and there is something about the way his eyebrow cocks up and the smartass gleam in his eyes that gets me. No one will be around when this happens. And then he won't help look for the elusive item, but will instead scoot off in another direction with one of *those* glances over his shoulder. As I look, he will trail me, while sometimes approaching in such a way that seems to let me know I am about to be tripped. Not one person sees any of this, either. He says I am being paranoid, and I realize it may sound as though I am. But I'm not. This is a man who has managed to fine tune the art of teasing to a point at which only his target realizes it is happening. To everyone else, he is the cute man who likes to play, only going about his innocent business. That, darlings, is a complete and utter crock of pure crap. His whole thing is to get someone else to go over the edge in front of strangers. It's what he's about.

I really do sound paranoid. What the hell ever. He does it, and I know he does it. The fact that no one else seems to see him do it is irrelevant. What winds up happening without fail is I wind up making an ass of myself because this adorable genius of tomfoolery knows exactly which buttons to push and when. Over the weekend, I walked out of a Walgreens fully intending to leave him there. Said bye to him over my shoulder, saw both cashiers look at me like I was the meanest girl on the planet (who could treat such a precious guy like that?), walked to my car, got in, and was on my way out of the parking lot when I realized I was about to make a grave mistake. I knew Didge had already won and that what I was about to do would be pointless, but what really stopped me was the thought of what he might do when he made it back home - - and for several months afterward.

And I still sound crazed and paranoid. I know I am making no sense whatsoever. How the hell am I supposed to? As I am trying to finish this blog entry, he is playing horrific eighties hits by Roxette and Stevie Wonder while smacking loudly on Slim Jims and asking where the dog is. You cannot tell me he does not *know*. I have locked myself in the bedroom to get this simple thing done.

To hell with trying to explain it.

I AM THE SANE ONE, PEOPLE! ME! I AM! FOR REAL!

I need to go stretch out on the floor and breathe deeply again.