Ice, ice baby

My wife is so self-possessed and independent that often it feels like I’m an optional extra. It’s very clear to me that she could get by perfectly fine without. This morning, it was frosty outside and the car windscreens all had a glaze of white frost. Today is my day for staying home from my shitty job because my boss can’t afford to pay me. So there’s no need for me to step out into freezing black of a January morning at all.

Except there’s the frost and I want to help my wife. “There’s no need for you to come down”, she says.

“I know, but I’ll scrape the ice off the windscreens for you.”

The plan that I’d sketched out in my head involved me scraping the ice off the car, while she sat in the car, heaters going. The point was that she didn’t have to go through the strenuous and unpleasant chore of de-icing. But, as I said, my wife doesn’t really need me. So instead, while I vainly chipped away at the ice with the scraper, she fished around in the car’s boot and found the can of de-icing spray.

So now we’re both outside de-icing her car. In fact, she’s used the can to melt the frost from all four side windows and the rear window, while I’m still scuffing off the driver’s side of the front windscreen.

With a flourish of fine liquid chemical spray, she demolishes the icy build up on the passenger side of the front windscreen.

“All done” she says, before lifting the wipers to ensure that they’re not frozen too. I want to say “I’ve done that already”, but she’s ushering me back inside. As I turn to wave to her, I see that she’s rescraping the area that I’ve already de-iced. So, not only are my efforts slower than what she can achieve on her own, they are also substandard.

My realisation that I am to all intents and purposes superfluous is not a giant ice-tipped bolt that stabs me through the skull like frozen urine dropped from a passing airliner. There’s no sudden incredulous gust of understanding that roots my inconsequential self to the spot. This is more like a gentle reminder.

After all, she doesn’t even know that I’ve seen her working over my contribution to ice-free driving vision.

That I don’t bring anything at all useful to our relationship is something that I’ve long been conscious of. Other than companionship, flatulence and a warm place to put cold feet, I don’t really add anything at all. Let’s be frank about the attributes I do bring, these can also supplied by a dog. The only thing that I’ve got that a dog hasn’t is opposable thumbs, so I don’t get trapped behind a closed door quite so often. Although, to say that it never happened would be to stretch the point into fiction.

It’s amazing that this confident, strident and independent woman not only has me hanging around but that she does things with me. More amazing again, quite often she does things for me – things I’m capable of doing myself, but not to the same sort of standard that she expects. Sometime marriage feels like the most comprehensive case of Stockholm Syndrome ever diagnosed. As a husband, I sort of have a sneaky suspicion I know what the kidnappers felt when Patty Hearst was better at robbing banks than them.

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