A Zoo Story

My husband is what I like to call a "rule follower." The man loves rules, he craves structure, he is often aroused by linear problem solving.

If Tony were to write a personal ad it might read; Tall white man with no Colon. Enjoys deep cleaning, budgeting finances on excel spread sheets and checking expiration dates on food in the fridge. Seeking: crazy girl who supplements meals with chewy sprees and Adderall,uses her vehicle as a dumping ground for Dr. Pepper cans, and often types her thoughts into google to see if anyone in the collective unconscious is thinking the same thing.

Throughout our courtship, there were few times when I questioned our compatibility. Finals week, senior year, was one of those times. Tony called me over to his frat house, excited to reveal what he had been working on most of the day. To me, the possibilities of what was about to be revealed were endless; perhaps he wrote me a song, made me a mix CD, or built a private bath in his closet so I would no longer have to use the public toilets at the Beta Sig house. What did my romantic hero reveal? A gigantic white board sectioned off into hundreds of hours. This man had scheduled his finals week hour by hour, including built in time for meals and study breaks. I slowly backed away.

Our future together flashed before my eyes. I imagined our married life together, organized into hour increments;
8:00am: kiss each other goodbye (keeping the kiss quick and tongue free, so not to incite any primal feelings that would interfere with the daily schedule)
9:00-12:00 working hard for the money,
12:00-1:00 left overs for lunch and a quick five minute phone call to spouse (discuss morning activities)
1:00-5:00 working hard for the money again;
6:00-7:00 leisurely dinner (the conversation should remain light for the best possible digestion),
7:00-8:00 TV time (husband and wife will alternate days to determine the program viewed, on Fridays a coin flip or arm wrestling match will determine who chooses the program),
8:00-8:02 sex (if the entire two minutes cannot be filled, the time may be spent holding each other or re-working the weekly budget)
8:02-10:00 bed time preparations (may include grooming, Tony emptying his fake colon, reading late 19th century novels. discussing the economic crisis. or laying in bed staring at the ceiling),
10:00-7:00am slumber with the intention of REM sleep.

I wanted to take his giant white board and smash it over his head. High off his sense of organizational elitism, he had the nerve to ask me what my finals week was going to look like.
"Well..." I said,"My finals week will consist of studying the night before each exam till 6:00am the next day, sleeping an hour an a half, waking up in my clothes from the day before, downing a Red Bull, taking the exam and sleeping in the MU dressing room until my phone alarm wakes me up for my 3:00 class." Just as I began backing out of the room, I was suddenly reminded of one of the main reasons I love Tony: he is not me. We needed each other. I needed a daily planner and he needed to eat ice cream for breakfast once and awhile. Throughout the remainder of our courtship and into our first six months of marriage, my type A husband has proven to be an occasional "rule breaker.

" For example; this Saturday we took a lovely trip to the zoo to celebrate my 24th birthday. The trip was going swimmingly; we got a Minute Maid ice freeze, we named the bears (Lola and Eugene), and we visited our favorite zoo friend Patches (a hostile sea lion who eats her feelings and is forced to feed on top of a large rock so that she doesn't steal food from the other sea lions). The day seemed to be free of discourse, that is until my husband committed THE ULTIMATE ZOO CRIME....... Tony picked up a penguin. That's right, after passing at least ten signs that read: FOR GOD SAKE, DO NOT TOUCH THE DAMN PENGUINS!! my husband had the audacity to reach over the Plexiglas wall and attempt to abduct a penguin. Out of nowhere a zoo cop apprehended him, screaming "Put down the bird." Tony responded in a smug manner and said to me under his breath, "I'll touch the penguin if I want to touch the penguin." The zoo cop spent the next 15 minutes following us around to make sure he did not molest any other animals. I was mortified. Little kids in the penguin house stared at us like we were that evil sea lion in "March of the Penguins," who attacks and kills the mother penguin.
I could hear Morgan Freeman narrating the scene, " Two vicious predators attempt to steal the penguin, taking him away from his artificial habitat, separating him from his entire penguin family and consequently killing his penguin baby." With great shame, I ran out of the penguin house. Tony continued to prey upon helpless and flightless birds. It was then I knew, my hubby is a rebel at heart.