Brief Scenes From Our Marriage
Scene 4: The Opposite of Feng Shui
My wife practices a discipline I call “The Opposite of Feng Shui.” It is the art of placing as many obstacles in my path as possible. It is a strict discipline, and she practices it religiously.
If I need to open a container, there will be heavy items stacked on top of it. If I need to walk through a narrow hallway, there will be a laundry basket or chair in my way.
She calls out “Are you OK?” if she hears a thump followed by my muffled cry of pain. “I’m fine,” I always reply. “I just bumped into something.”
Her discipline dictates that tables and chairs are to be arranged so that I must zigzag around them. Books, instead of standing upright in our bookcase, are to be stacked in tall, unsteady piles. Through the magic of The Opposite of Feng Shui, the book I seek will invariably be at the bottom of the pile.
There is an end table with three drawers where she keeps various essentials like checkbooks, batteries, and pencils. She keeps the top drawer stuffed with more items than can fit, and so it cannot close all the way. I can’t get to the second or third drawer without first removing the entire top drawer, as if I were appraising the table for Antiques Roadshow.
She leaves her shoes and boots against the wall behind our front door, so the door won’t open all the way, and I must edge sideways into my own house like a ghost crab. She also hangs coats back there. If I arrive home with an armful of packages and manage to open the door, it bounces softly against the coats and shoes, and closes back on me.
She recently attained the rank of Master of the Opposite of Feng Shui. This means I can barely make a move now without walking into something and bruising myself.
She has attained perfection.
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